


Stood Up

by iamhollsteintrash



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-04-20 11:48:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4786268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamhollsteintrash/pseuds/iamhollsteintrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ali Krieger gets stood up on a blind date. A stunning stranger steps in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day One

When you get dressed for your date, you have to consult your friends about what the appropriate amount of sexy is. When you emerge from your room in a skin-tight black dress with heels that give you an extra four inches, Tobin lets out a low, quiet whistle.

“Dude.”

You spin self-consciously.

“What? Too much? Not enough?”  
Alex clears her throat.

“Well. Are you going to sleep with him tonight?”  
“I’m not… sure. Does it send that message?”

Alex shrugs, uncurling from the ball she’s in on the couch to approach you. “Maybe just a little. Just enough to be a little too much for a first date.”

Tobin’s looking at the TV, watching whatever football game they’ve settled on for the night, but reassures you vaguely. “Maybe something a little toned down, you know? Like, wear that when you go clubbing with him, right? Tonight wear something that says, ‘I probably couldn’t kick your ass in any context.’”

It takes another hour of trying things on, but you finally settle on a pair of tight black leggings and a flowing white top. It shows your arms, which you love, but it is also not too sexy, which the girls approve of. You touch up your makeup before lifting your bag over your shoulder and heading out the door, giving the girls yelling over the game in the living room a shout before leaving.

“Knock ‘em dead, killer!” Tobin yells to you.

“Good luck!” Alex chimes in.

\--

You walk to the restaurant, it’s only a few blocks away and it’s a beautiful night in DC.

It’s also your first date in a while. Professional soccer doesn’t allow for much breathing room in terms of dating and having a personal life. Alex set up this date through her boyfriend. You texted a bit, exchanged pictures, and he seems really sweet. You can tell you’re bouncing just a bit when you get to the restaurant, a little gastropub downtown. You go inside and tell the snooty hostess you’re here with a reservation for 2.

“Under the name Ali Krieger, please.”

She looks, raking her finger down the list of reservations in front of her as though you might be lying. When she finally finds it, she escorts you to your table, tucked in a corner with a view of the whole room. She places one menu on the table and thrusts the other into your hands.

\--- 

_On your way?  
_ You fire off a text to him after the busboy brings you water and a basket of bread. The seat across from you remains troublingly empty as you pull apart a roll. It remains empty as the waiter comes by and asks if you’re dining alone. You reassure him that you have someone coming to meet you, he must be running a little late. 10 minutes pass.

“Anything I can get for you to drink while you wait, miss?”  
Your waiter is tall and handsome and you can already see the pity in his eyes.

Red wine stains your lips and you don’t want to be drunk when he gets here, so you settle on white.

“A glass of your house white would be great.”  
“And… any appetizers or anything? That way it’ll be out when your companion gets here?”  
“No no, it’s fine.”  
Your waiter gives you a sad smile and retreats from the table towards the bar. You see him whisper in the ear of the bartender, who looks over at you. Rolling your eyes, you flip your phone over and check for messages. Two from Alex, one from your brother, and none from Will.

 

_Date night tonight!!!!!!_

The text from Kyle is cute, yet another reminder of how much he cares about you. Sometimes you wonder if they’re more for you or for him. 

 

_How’s it going?_

_Ooh… no answer? Conversation must be fire!_

You roll your eyes and type out the same text to both people.

 

_I think I’m being stood up._

Your waiter brings over your glass of wine.

“You know what, I think I’ll have the mushroom risotto for an appetizer. He can order when he gets here.”

Your waiter nods. “I’ll put that right in for you. Flag me down when he gets here, alright?”  
You smile wide as your phone buzzes twice in your hand. “Will do!”

 

_No fucking way._

Kyle is your biggest cheerleader; he has been all the time since he got sober. You brace yourself for the set of flabbergasted, confidence boosting texts he must be preparing.

Still nothing from the man now clearly standing you up. You sip your wine and text him again.

_Assuming you’re in traffic! Looking forward to seeing you!_

20 minutes passes.

 

You enjoyed your mushroom risotto, but now you’ve got nothing to do but sip your second glass of wine and pick at the bread basket

You’ve reapplied your lipstick three times now, each time after carefully wiping the stains off the glass.

 

30 minutes passes.

 

You are fiddling with the salt and pepper shakers on the table. The waiter has taken your menu but left the one on the other side of the table. Every time a new glass of wine appears, there’s more pity in his eyes. The breadbasket has been refilled. Your phone buzzes again on the table as your waiter nervously eyes you from across the room.

It’s Alex.

_Ali, I am so sorry. Will called Servando and told him he wasn’t going to come tonight. Apparently he got cold feet at the last minute. He also apparently does this all the time. I wish I had known he was a flake.  I never would’ve set this up. I’m so so so sorry._  

You sigh heavily and fire off a quick _ok._ But now you have to leave and concede defeat to this establishment. The waiter, apparently sensing your frustration, starts to walk over, pulling what appears to be a rung out check from his pocket.

“Hey so…”

Suddenly, a blonde swings into the seat across from you. You only have a second to gape at her before she starts talking.  
“Babe! I’m so sorry I was late. Traffic was insanity. You know DC on the weeknights. I hope I didn’t hold you up from ordering. Could you give me one second to take a look through this and then come take our order?”

The waiter’s mouth falls open but he composes himself fairly quickly. “Sure, of course. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”  He backs away, then scampers off to the bartender. You can see him frantically whispering to the bartender over your apparent date’s shoulder.

The blonde clears her throat. “Hi, I’m Ashlyn.” She extends a heavily tattooed arm over the table and it takes you a second to realize she wants you to shake her hand. “I’m Ali.” She smiles, eyes lit. Maybe it’s the wine talking, but you think she’s absolutely stunning in her dress shirt and thin gold chain. Even the dumb fedora she’s wearing looks good.

“Nice to meet you Ali. I hope you don’t mind me taking over for the date that obviously stood you up.”

You snort. “How could you tell?”

She points over her shoulder to the other side of the restaurant, a dark little alcove crowded with people. “I was with my friends over there keeping an eye on you. I said I thought you were cute and they told me they thought you were waiting for a date. It became clear you were… and then that that date wasn’t coming… so I figured I’d come help you salvage your night.”

Her grin is wicked, but adorable. You find yourself smiling down at the table, trying not to let her see the way your tongue comes between your teeth when you laugh.  
“Well thanks. I appreciate it. I hope you’ll let me buy you dinner, then.”

Ashlyn laughs. “No way, Miss Ali. I doubt the person you were dating was going to let you pay, so I will buy you dinner. Now. Let me figure out what to order.”

She looks down at the menu and you pick up your phone to take a surreptitious snapchat for Alex and Kyle. And of course, as is your luck, the flash goes off.

Ashlyn looks up, one eyebrow raised and a planted on her face.

“Look, honey, if you want to take a picture of me at least make it a good one.”

She beams at your phone, winking after you take the picture.

You caption it, “My new date!” and send it off. You know Kyle is going to laugh and Alex and Tobin will hardly be surprised. They’ve been teasing you with gender neutral pronouns since that _one time_ at camp you brought home a girl.  

The waiter returns and Ashlyn orders an Old Fashioned. _Of course she drinks whiskey,_ you think to yourself. You’d expect nothing else from a girl who makes gold chains and feathered hats look good. She orders a short rib dish off the menu and you order a pasta with wild boar.

“Oh, hun, you’ll have to let me try that,” she exclaims as the waiter writes your order down, squeezing the hand you have on the table. “I’ll put that in right away!” your waiter exclaims.

After he retreats, you don’t pull your hand away but you roll your eyes at her. “Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you?”

She shrugs, smirking mischievously. “I just want this to be the best date you’ve had in a while.”

\---

The rest of the night is nice. One might even call it fun, even as the wine blurs the edges of your vision and she tells you whiskey’s behind many of her fuzziest evenings. Your meal is delicious and Ashlyn is fascinating. You talk for hours about the most benign things, music, movies, local coffee shops. She’s smart and cute and makes you feel a sort of warmth you didn’t realize you were missing.

She played college soccer and was on track to join the senior National Team before tearing her ACL in a championship game. She rehabbed it for a few years and by the time she got back, she was eclipsed by younger, faster goalkeepers.

“I figured my time was probably up. So I moved on. I’ve lived all over the edges of the country and finally settled in DC a few months ago. My girlfriend at the time was getting into political work on the Hill and when we broke up, I just stayed in town.”

She is an open book, which is refreshing.

“I’ve struggled for a while with depression,” she says over your entrees after you tell her about your brother’s recovery. “You know, when something is your whole life for such a long time and then you lose it, it’s hard to find something new. But I own a tattoo shop, which I love and have and been passionate about for a long while. It’s a lot less of a lonely life than soccer was. But sometimes I watch the games, like I’ll go with my friends to the local women’s team games – the Spirit – and I miss it every single fucking second.”

You smirk down at your empty plate.

“I can’t believe I’ve never run into you at one of those games, Ashlyn. I go to every single one. Travel with them, too.”

She shrugs, not catching on yet. “Well I mean I don’t go often. You must be quite a fangirl. Aren’t they playing this weekend?”  
“Mhm.”

“Do you have tickets?”

She’s leaning over the table, her head propped up on her elbow.  
“Well Ash,” you like the shortened version of her name as soon as it leaves your mouth. “I don’t buy tickets.”

“Shit, do you work for them?”  
“Kind of…”

Ashlyn sits up straight, eyes wide. “You fucking play for them don’t you. Krieger. My friend doesn’t stop talking about you when we go. I knew I knew your face from somewhere.”

You smirk and nod, finally letting yourself laugh a bit. “Do you need me to sign an autograph?”

She stands, pulling her phone from her back pocket. “I’m going to ask honestly. She won’t fucking believe me.”

As she’s frantically texting her friend, you have an idea. You scribble your name and number on the napkin. You fold it up and pass it to her as the waiter lays the check on the table. “Have a good night, ladies,” he smiles. You shell cash out onto the bill, leaving enough plus a generous tip. The poor guy had you at his table for four hours.

Ashlyn tries to protest when she looks up, but you shut her down with a wagging finger.  
“I’m going to head home. Thank you for a really fun night.”

Ashlyn stands up with you. “No way, I’ve got to walk you home. Otherwise they’ll figure out the ruse.” She winks and holds out her arm, which you hold as she walks you to the door. “I hope you didn’t drive here. Or that you live in walking distance.”

You laugh. “Only a few blocks away.”

She looks even nicer standing. A little taller than you, the light from the streetlamps lights up her face in angelic hues. You are both walking slightly crooked as cars and people move around you. You’re relatively silent except to laugh when she stumbles, but catch yourself pulling her a little closer every time she seems to draw away.

As you approach your home, you see Alex and Tobin quickly pulling the curtains shut. You’ve been ignoring their messages all night and sent them a quick one to tell them you were heading home so they wouldn’t think you were dead. You're almost surprised Alex isn't waiting outside to interrogate you.

“So… this is me,” you say, grinding to a reluctant halt.

Ash swings an arm around your shoulders and turns to face you. “I had a really nice night, Ali Krieger, soccer extraordinaire.”

“Me too,” you whisper.

“I would really like to see you again. On a real date this time.”

Her face is close to yours and her voice is low, sultry, and ever so slightly slurred. Before even thinking, you lean in and press your lips to hers. She presses into you, placing a hand on your waist to pull you against her. You kiss like this for a minute, then push harder, begging for entrance to her mouth with your tongue. She obliges and tastes like whiskey and breath mints. You know it’s the wine talking, but you consider inviting this sweet stranger inside. The kiss is still deepening when she pulls away, a smirk plastered across her face.  
“So you’ll see me then?”

You try to regain your composure. “I guess I will.” Your coy act fails and she laughs.

“How about lunch tomorrow?”

“Well I’ve got practice until noon. Give me a bit to shower and change? Pick me up here around 2?”

Ashlyn steps back, giving you a little bow. “As you wish, princess. I’ll see you here around 2.”


	2. Day Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the nerves leading up to the date are just as fun to write as the date itself ;)

Alex is waiting to pounce in your living room.

“So last I heard you were getting stood up? And now you’re making out with a random girl in front of the house?”

You shrug. “A heroic stranger saved the day I guess.”

“And what’s her _name_?” Alex cries, clearly exasperated.

You put your bag down and sit on the couch, taking your time to adjust your shirt and cross your legs as Alex waits, arms crossed like a disappointed mother. Tobin hides a laugh in her sweatshirt as she grows more and more agitated.

“Her name is Ashlyn. She owns a tattoo shop downtown. She was with her friends, saw I was getting stood up, and decided to come have dinner with me. I had a couple of drinks and so did she and it was a really nice night.” 

You are trying to hide your grin but Tobin catches it and leans forward on the couch.

“And you’re obviously seeing her again. When?”

You finally let your smile free. “Tomorrow! After practice. Well after practice after I shower and change.”

“Did she recognize you?”

Tobin has a concerned tone to her voice you don’t hear often. She drew a lot of attention after the Olympics in 2012 and is always hesitant dating outside of the sport after one very bad experience. Simply put, she almost slept with someone whose walls were covered in posters of her from UNC to USWNT. Ever since, she’s protective of the girls who date outside of football and tries to be the poster child against it.

“Well she kind of did, her friends are big fans but she doesn’t go to a lot of games. She only made the connection when I hinted at it really heavily. I think it helps she was abroad last time I was on the National Team roster.”

Tobin seems unsettled but appeased enough to settle back into silence. Alex is practically bouncing.

“Well I’d like to meet her. She’s a little ambitious, asking you out already, isn’t she? And making out in front of the house? I can’t believe she’d initiate that with a stranger!”  
  
You feel yourself turning red and Tobin is smirking.

“Alex, I initiated that part.”  

“Ali!”

“I know, I know! She was close to my face and she’s just so cute!”

Alex, never an advocate for making the first move, clicks her tongue at you and shakes her head. When she started dating Servando, she had a policy that she’d wait at least as long as he did to text back. You’re pretty sure she’s dropped that by now, but only after a few years of being together.

“You have to be careful. You don’t want to seem too eager. She asked to see you again right? You're not just falling all over this stranger asking her out?"

Tobin pipes up. "Chill out, Alex. Ali knows how to fend for herself. Not all of us are as freaked out by first moves as you are." She grins at you as Alex settles on the couch, aggressively texting someone. 

\---

You watch TV with the girls for a little while to hear about their nights and distract yourself. They seem to have not done much besides watch football and call their respective partners. Alex misses Servando, but that's nothing new. Tobin is aloof, like she is with every partner. You are itching to run to your room and pine over this girl all night, but they keep you occupied until the thought of finding her on every social media outlet seems like a bad idea. You finally close the door to your room as Tobin and Alex settle onto the pullout for the night. You open up your laptop and start to search Ashlyn’s name, then change your mind, slam it shut, and text Kyle.

_Are you still up?_

It takes a minute for Kyle’s read receipt to show he saw the text, and within a few seconds your phone is ringing.

“Hey you!”

His voice is bubbly on the other end, the kind that lifts even the lowest spirits.

“So who’s this gal? Tell me you did not pick up a hotter chick than your original date after getting stood up?”

“Her name is Ashlyn. She saw my date wasn’t coming and decided she was going to be my date instead.”

“What’s she do?”

“She owns a tattoo shop! It’s actually one of the places I was looking to get my next piece done. You should see her, Kyle, she’s so beautiful and sure of herself.”

“So did you get her number? Are you going out again? Should I be planning a wedding?”

You laugh, and you can practically hear him grinning on the other end.

“We are going out again… tomorrow.”

“Damn, girl! You move fast, I should be planning a wedding shouldn't I!”

“I know I know, but she asked and I just didn’t really… want to say no. I don’t want to play the games anymore.”

“Alex, I am sure you’re going to absolutely kill it. I’ll be rooting for you from here and I obviously expect a full play-by-play after.”

“I’m just nervous, you know? I want to know everything about her but I don’t want to stalk her on social media or anything. It’s been a while since I started dating someone.”

Kyle’s laugh rings into your ear.

“Alright, sis. Tell me her name, I’ll do some looking, and I’ll tell you if there are any red flags. Like already dating someone or a history of criminal convictions. I’m sure I can find that somewhere.”

His attempts to comfort you work, but only barely.

“Get some sleep, Alex, you’ll be okay. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

You hang up and toss your phone on the bed, changing into your pajamas. You shuffle to the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face, trying to quietly close the doors as to not wake your snoring friends.  
When you return you have two texts.

_You gave me your number, so you should have mine ;)_

_I hope it wasn’t too forward to ask you out again on the first date. My friends think it was. But I really want to see you again. Thanks for the autograph, btw. It’s gone over very well. Looking forward to tomorrow. Have fun at practice!_

You save her number in your phone and reply the smoothest thing you can think of.

_Can’t wait to see you! ;)_

You plug your phone in, set your alarm, and try not to let your excitement keep you up.

\---

Practice the next day is agony. The actual workout part is great, you love your team and your position and it takes your mind off of the nerves that kept you up for a few extra hours the night before. But when you miss a third pass from Crystal Dunn, she jogs to your side to ask what’s wrong.

“You okay? You seem a little distracted.”

After taking a long swig from your water bottle you respond hesitantly. You’re usually very private about your romantic life. Things can go south too quickly to get excited this early on.

“I have a date today.”

“No way!”

“I do. We met last night in a really weird and awkward way and she asked me out for today and I’m really stressed about how to dress and what to say and if she’ll even like me.”

Crystal laughs, pausing to drink before responding.

“I am sure you’ll do great. You’re Ali Krieger, after all, who wouldn’t love dating a big famous pro soccer player? Lay some German on her, she'll fall for you in a heartbeat.”

That calms you down for the rest of practice. Crystal's the only person who doesn't seem to think Ashlyn has bad intentions and her confidence is reassuring. 

\---

It’s a frantic rush to get ready after practice and you shower more quickly than you’d like to. After you sprint from the bathroom to your bedroom to get dressed, you turn up the music you usually use pre-game to get pumped up music to try and clear your head. You go through three pairs of pants before choosing on a pair of tight jeans that have garnered many a compliment. You put on a just oversized soft, tailored t-shirt. You slip on flats and focus on your makeup, redoing your eyeliner four times so it’s just right. After agonizing over hair up or hair down, you decide to wear it down, reapply deodorant, spritz some perfume, and pick up your bag.

Your hand is on the doorknob when you hear talking from the living room. Talking that sounds very much like Alex giving someone the third degree. Someone whose voice sounds very much like Ashlyn’s.

“So you just… decided you were going to pick up on her date?”

“Yeah, I mean, she’s really gorgeous and I figured she wouldn’t mind the companionship.”

You grin, leaning on the door and deciding to let the interrogation continue to see if she’ll say anything else nice about you.

“And where are you taking her?”

“Well there’s a nice place called Founding Farmers, have you been?”

Tobin pipes up. “Yeah, I love it there. Ali will love it too. Good choice!” 

You hear what sounds like a high five as Alex clears her throat.

“And who’s paying? You’re not going to bail on her with the check?”

“Why would I even do that?”

That’s enough for you. Alex is obviously out for blood and you are not having it. You throw the door open and Ashlyn is sitting on the couch with a freshly practiced Alex Morgan and Tobin Heath. Ashlyn looks understandably a little unnerved.

“Ash!”

She looks up at you and jumps to her feet. Even wearing yet another dumb fedora, she looks _amazing_. You have trouble comprehending how someone in an oversized black t-shirt and jeans with Doc Martens can look so good. The butterflies that have been lingering all day are going wild in your stomach.

“Hey you,” she grins, approaching you for a hug. She smells like Old Spice and fruity shampoo. When your head is over her shoulder, you throw Alex a hard glare.

“I hope they didn’t scare you too much!” you laugh, only half kidding.

“Nah, I definitely have been more scared before. And I love to talk to another Tar Heel!” Tobin raises her fist in agreement. “Are you ready to go?”

“Absolutely!”

She presses her hands together, pointing at Alex.

“It was great to meet you. I hope I’ll see you again soon.”

Alex looks miffed that you cut the interrogation short, but nods and smiles.

She holds her arm out again, much like the night before, and leads you out the door. Your phone is vibrating in your back pocket with texts you’re sure are either Kyle wishing you luck or Alex judging her and you put it on silent.

Ashlyn is chivalrous, opening the door to her white Jeep for you before hopping in on the driver’s side. She pulls sunglasses from the cupholder between your seats and slides them on before shifting into gear and peeling away from the curb.  

“Your friends are ruthless, aren’t they?” she says, one hand on the wheel and the other dangling from the window. You try not to focus on how beautiful she is.

“Yeah I mean, they’re just a little protective.”

“Understandable. I guess if my best friend had come home with a stranger who promptly asked her out for the next day I’d be protective too.”

Ashlyn drives too fast. She swerves in and out of lanes and you’re surprised she doesn’t get pulled over. She’s not a bad driver, per say, but she’s not a particularly good one either. You find yourself grabbing onto the handle of the door every time she whips around a turn without signaling. Eventually, when you’re stopped at a red light, she laughs at your white knuckled grip.

“I’m sorry. I should have warned you. I basically learned to drive from the _Fast and Furious_ movies. I promise you’re safe. I wouldn’t let anything happen to precious cargo.”

She winks as you turn into the parking lot for the restaurant. She has that wicked grin on as you unbuckle your seatbelt.

“Stay right there!”

She turns the ignition off and tucks the keys into her pocket as she hops out of the car and runs to your side, unlocking the door and opening it wide. She holds her hand out for you to take and guides you out with just enough ceremony for it to be ridiculous.

“Thank you!”

“Of course, princess.”

You follow her into the restaurant, trying to take in the tattooed ray of sunshine who's managed to make you feel less like more princess than warrior for the first time in ages. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading, I hope this lives up to expectations. As time goes on I am going to try to figure out how often I can update, but yeah. Thanks for reading and comments are always always always welcome. All the love.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The date! It happens!

"Two for Harris, please," she says after you enter, holding up two fingers at the hostess and flashing a grin. You think the poor girl might keel over, the ways she stutters “Right this way,” and begins to lead you to your table.

   
“Do you have that effect on all the ladies?” you mumble as you follow. Ashlyn laughs, shooting you a wink before sitting sitting down.

   
“Did I have that effect on you?”

   
You can feel yourself turn red. “That was differentYou weren’t flirting with me, you were just trying to save me.”

  
She raises her eyebrows, looking down at the menu.

  
“Right. I definitely was not flirting with the sad, beautiful stranger on the other side of the restaurant. Not at all. Just being chivalrous. And hoping to get free dinner.”

   
You kick her under the table.

 “Ow! You can’t think I didn’t think you were gorgeous from the first time I saw you!” she says, reaching down to rub her shin. “I wouldn’t have a spontaneous dinner date with just anyone.”

   
Your waitress approaches the table, filling your water glasses before introducing herself.

   
“Good afternoon, ladies, my name is Michelle and I’ll be taking your order today, is there anything I can get you to drink before you get started?”

   
“I would just love a cup of coffee if it’s not too much trouble. Alex?”

  
You are struck by the nickname - well the nickname to your nickname – and all you can do is nod an affirmative to the waitress, who quickly scampers away.

   
“Sorry, is that nickname a no go? It just kind of slipped out. I can just call you Ali. Or Alexandra, if you want.”

   
“No, no it’s not that at all. I think it’s cute.”

  
She’s grinning down at her menu, but obviously trying to keep her voice steady. “Cool.”  


After you place your orders, you both start to talk at the same time. Ashlyn stops immediately, gesturing for you to keep going.

  
“So how long has your tattoo shop been open?”

  
“Oh about a year now, I think. I tried to snipe my favorite artist from my hometown, but she loves it down there too much. So I’ve been trying to kind of gather the young artists with raw talent and get it refined.”

  
“Do you let them practice on you?”

  
She throws her head back to laugh.

   
“No way. I plan my pieces way too meticulously to be someone’s practice canvas.”

   
“So you’re a control freak?”

   
She laughs. “Not a control freak. I just know how I want all my pieces to look.”

   
“And how many pieces is that?”

  
She leans over the table, lifting the sleeve of her shirt to her shoulder so you can see the elaborate sleeve on her arm. It’s beautiful, all black white and grey, with gods and symbols and things you can’t understand in the dimly lit restaurant.

 

“So I guess maybe that counts as one, right? I have one on each shoulder. And then I have another piece here,” she gestures to the side of her body, from her hip to the top of her ribcage. “And another here,” she slides her hand beneath her breast. “You can see those when we’re not in a restaurant waiting for brunch.’” She winks. “I do have a reputation to uphold.”

   
You blush and look down at your hands and her laugh rings out.

   
“I didn’t mean it in a gross way! I’ll show them to you later if you want. On one condition.”

  
“Which is?”

  
“You have to tell me about yours.”

 

You extend your arm to show her the word “Liebe” in a looping cursive on your forearm.

 

“So this means love in German. And on my back I have one of my favorite quotes from the first book I ever read in German.”

  
“Your roots, I assume?”

  
You shrug.

 

“Before I was on the National Team or the Spirit, I moved to Germany to play in Frankfurt. There was no real successful league here, so I went there to grow. Otherwise I probably wouldn’t have been able to maintain my position on the team.”

She’s nodding along, head tilted and holding eye contact. You are momentarily stunned by how attentive she is, but continue on.

   
“So when I moved over there, I really connected to my roots. I became fluent in the language and immersed myself in the culture. My last name means warrior in German, so my teammates would call me Warrior Princess. Which has kind of stuck over here, I guess.”

  
Ashlyn is clearly fascinated, resting her head on top of her fists and leaning over the table.

   
“It’s amazing you’re so connected to that part of you and who you are. Your culture and stuff. Where I come from, most people are trying to get away from their past and you seem to just be embracing it. It’s refreshing.”

   
Your waitress arrives with the food, placing both entrees gently in front of the two of you. She got an oven baked mac and cheese, explaining to both you and the waitress as she ordered, “I would literally eat this three meals a day if I could.” You ordered an Ahi Tuna salad with avocado and bell peppers. Ashlyn thanks her and she retreats again, and you eat in relative silence, which is a relief. You never like talking while you eat since it usually leads to speaking with your mouth full, which is gross. And you like Ashlyn too much to subject her to that. After a few minutes, she looks up at you.

  
“Do you like it?”  
You nod. "It's amazing!"   
  
She breathes a sigh of relief and grins. “Thank god. I asked everyone I knew from around here where the best place to take you would be.”  
You almost choke on your salad.

\---

You try not to eat too quickly, wanting to make the date as long as possible. But every good thing must end, and Ashlyn waves her hand for the check after your plates have been cleared and you’ve spent another forty-five minutes over coffee hashing out the movies you’ve seen, your mutual (secret) love for _The Bachelor_ , and the names of your first ever rec teams. You were on the Sparklers. She was on the Blues. It takes some convincing, but you convince her that your team name was cooler.

   
As Ashlyn is slipping cash into the bill fold she won’t even let you see, you recognize a developing situation across the restaurant. Three young girls, with their mothers, are pointing at you.

   
Ashlyn notices it too as she closes the bill fold and places it back on the table. “Is this one of trials of celebrity?” she asks, smirking as the girls get up from the table and make their way across the restaurant. The mothers across the restaurant is trying to call them back in hushed tones, but they aren’t having it. They all look just old enough to be joining their first club teams and are whispering amongst themselves when they reach the table.

 

“Um, excuse me, Ali Krieger?” one of them asks. Ashlyn has covered her mouth with her hand to contain a laugh. You smile at them, conscious of the way your nose scrunches up.

 

“Hi girls, what’s up?”

  
“We just… we know you from the Washington Spirit games and…”

 

“We go every time you play at home!”

 

“Yeah, we go to every game and we heard you might get to play in the World Cup and we just wanted to tell you we really really like seeing you play.”

 

Ashlyn is leaning back in her seat, absolutely beaming. You’re not sure if your smile is more because of them or because of her.

  
“Well thank you! I really appreciate that. Are you girls joining club teams now? Where do you play?”  


They begin to rattle off club teams you’ve never heard of and the various and sundry positions that come with young players figuring out where they fit.

  
“We have a game tonight!” one of them says with a wide grin. “I’m a defender, just like you!”

 

“That’s amazing. I bet one day I’ll see you on the Spirit with me!”

 

Ashlyn pushes back from her seat and stands.

 

“You know, guys, I’m also a huge Ali Krieger fan. I know how cool it is to meet your favorite player. You’ve got to remember this day. We should get a picture of all of you together, shouldn’t we, Ali?”

 

She winks as you stand. “Let’s go ask your mom for her camera and we’ll get a good group one, alright?”

 

The girls run back to their table and Ashlyn bumps your hand with hers.  “This is very, very cute.” 

 

You feel your face turn red as she follows you to their table. You shake the hands of their mothers and sign a napkin before crouching down and putting your arms around the three girls for a group picture. Ashlyn is smugly grinning behind the camera. She hands the phone back to one of the moms as you wish the girls well one more time.

 

“It was so great to meet you girls, good luck tonight!”

  
You fall into stride next to Ashlyn as you leave the restaurant. She is beaming.

  
“That was one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen.”

 

She elbows you in the ribs. “Imagine how popular they’re going to be at their game tonight, meeting the famous Ali Krieger.”

 

“But I do totally understand the Krieger fever now,” she says nonchalantly after you've both climbed into the car. You turn red and bury your face in your hands as she puts it in reverse, grinning smugly.

   
“No, not Krieger fever!”

   
“It’s a very serious illness, Alexandra,” she says jokingly. “I’ve read that it involves not being able to stop thinking about world famous right back Ali Krieger. In serious cases, it involves wanting to buy her lunch and take her on the nicest dates you can afford and watch _The Bachelor_ with her. Definitely involves wanting to go to her games.”

   
She’s smiling as she speeds down the road back towards your house. You want to nudge her, but you’re afraid she’ll take her eyes off the road. So you decide to play along.

   
“Well it sounds like you have it bad. Is there a cure?”

  
“I’m pretty sure the only cure is more Krieger.”

   
You laugh as she turns the radio in the car up. You take out your phone for the first time since she picked you up, scrolling through texts from Alex you ignored hours ago.

 

_She’s very… tattooed._

_Tobin thinks she’s nice._

_I hope you’re not answering me because you’re having fun and not because you’re murdered_

_Are you murdered?_

You smirk and snap her a picture of yourself with Ashlyn driving in the background. When she protests, you tell her it’s to reassure Alex that you’re still alive. Tobin had texted you a single thumbs up emoji. Then you read texts from Kyle.

 

_Totally stalked her on Insta.  She’s fine, maybe a little weird but she likes selfies just as much as me._

_She seems really sweet. I hope your date is going well! Love youuuu!_

You text him back.

 

_Date was amazing. I really like her._

 

When you pull up to the house, Ash opens your door in a courteous way you’re beginning to get used to.

 

“Do you want to come inside? I’m sure Alex will want to give you some more of the third degree.”

 

She hedges for a minute, shifting back and forth on her feet. “I mean I guess I do need to show you the tattoos that are unfit for public exposure.”

 

She follows you into the house, which you are relieved to find Alex and Tobin free. You put your bag on the couch and spin to face her, arms crossed.

 

“Alright, let’s see them!”  
  
Ashlyn looks surprised.

 

“Usually I expect a little bit more foreplay. Especially after the second date.”

 

She winks before pulling her shirt over her head, revealing a bright set of tattoos that starkly contrast the greyscale tattoos on her arm and an absolutely beautiful body. You try not to stare at her abs as she begins to explain each tattoo in detail.

 

“The butterfly is for my grandma, she survived breast cancer and used to have these pictures of butterflies in her room that she said helped through recovery.”  


She runs her hand over the bright Hawaiian flowers underneath the butterfly.

“These flowers are from the custom surfboard my dad used to get me growing up.”

 

She points to the bird clutching a pink ribbon. “Then I’ve got this swallow, swallows always return home. The pink ribbon is for my grandma’s fight.”  


“This is my brother’s name,” she says as she runs a finger under the name Christopher Ryan in looped cursive beside the piece.

 

“There’s a rosary going through the whole thing,” she says, tracing it through the flowers.

   
You nod, trying to take it all in. She steps closer. 

“You can touch it if you want. I don’t bite.”

You know the game she’s playing, trying to get you to touch her tattoos so that you’re close enough to kiss. Which you wouldn’t play along with normally, but she’s very sweet, and for all her swagger, she seems to be testing the waters with you very gently. You reach out, placing your palm over the lowest Hawaiian flower.

 “I had a very good time today, Ashlyn.”

   
She smirks.

   
“Are you just saying that because I’m standing in front of you shirtless?”

 

You laugh. “No, I’m serious. I really like hanging out with you.”  


“So you wouldn’t mind if I came to your game on Friday? I promise I’ll stick around for autographs.”

   
Her grin widens when you roll your eyes.

   
“I’d honestly be offended if you didn’t come on Friday.”

   
You lean in to kiss her, a peck on the lips much gentler than the make out session you’d had after a few drinks the night before. You like the way her lips feel, soft but firm. When she pulls away, you can see the sheen of the lip gloss you’d reapplied in the car on the way home on her lips. You want to keep kissing her, but she smiles and shakes her head.

   
“Let’s make a deal. We can kiss... and stuff, more when I see you when you get that win on Friday.”

  
“And what if I don’t get the win?”

   
"Well then you have to wait!”

  
Her wicked grin returns as she pulls her shirt back over her head.  
  


“I’ll see you Friday. I’ll be the one screaming for your autograph.”  


She winks and turns on her heel to leave, gently closing the front door behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey pals. I am very bad at writing small talk but I hope this was ok. I'll try to update again one day this week - it's just been a wee bit hectic. All the love.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ali has a game. Ashlyn is there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters! One day! Since I can never ever update during the week because of school, I figured I'd post this since it's done. Thank you so much for the hits, kudos, comments, and support. All the love.

It is hard not to be distracted the next three days. Ashlyn is not very good at texting and you have to remind yourself that a big part of her job is sitting in one place painting _permanent_ pictures on strangers for money. She is much better at texting at night, when her normal appointments are slowing down and walk-ins are showing up drunk. Thursday she sends you a picture of a watercolor piece she finished on someone’s arm.

 

_Six hours in one place! Look at this!_

It’s beautiful and her talent is easily recognizable. You can’t help but wonder what that attention to detail looked like on the field. After you mutually friended each other and followed each other on Twitter and Instagram, you had to suppress the urge to go through every picture she’d ever taken. But Thursday night before bed, you go to Youtube and do some digging.

 

_Ashlyn Harris UNC_

_Ashlyn Harris Saves_

A few pages of results come up, some relating to soccer, some not. Over the course of about an hour, you watch her college career and her U-20 National Team highlights. She was good – really good. It’s disappointing to watch the video of her final ACL tear, the one she decided would end her soccer career. As she was taken off the field on a stretcher, your heart aches. You wonder if she knew that would be her last time stepping onto the pitch competitively. It’s 11PM when you settle into bed, after wishing Alex and Tobin luck for the next day. It’s not exactly your tradition to see the competition the morning of the game. When you check your phone for the last time before setting it down for the night there’s a text from Ashlyn.

 

_Not sure what your pregame traditions are, I know mine were always very self centered. Just wanted to wish you luck tomorrow. Bring home that W!_

You smile, firing back an affirmative before pulling up the covers and drifting to sleep.

 

\--

Every game day is basically the same for you. It’s a little more difficult to hold onto the process when you’re in a different city, but you try to keep things basically the same.

 

11AM: You wake up at 11AM. Not 11:01, not 10:59. While you rarely sleep late on game day, you do tend to wake up early, but you lay in bed until the alarm on your phone rings out.

 

11:01-12:00PM:  Get ready. This is a lot like every other day. Get dressed, put on makeup, pack your bag for the game. Sometimes you shower, but today you don’t,

 

12:01PM-1:30PM: Call Kyle. This tradition started at the 2011 World Cup. You had called him in the group stage when your nerves were shot and you needed someone to talk to outside of your team. So you called him walking to the closest coffeeshop to your hotel in Germany, promising to pay his long distance charges. Now, every game day no matter what, he blocks out an hour and a half of his time to talk to you in the morning. Usually while you walk to the coffee shop down the block from your apartment. He waits patiently while you order and then when you sit, he asks,

 

“So what’s up today?”  
  
“Well we’re playing the Thorns.”  
  
“You can beat them, right?”

“Yeah, but it’s hard to keep them contained when there’s gaping holes in our back line.”  
  
“But you knew to work on it! So now you’ve got the tools to beat them.”

That’s usually where the shop talk stops. Kyle grew up watching you play, but he doesn’t know enough about strategy to talk about it without psyching you out. Then you ask him about his day. But today, you deviate from the schedule.

   
“Ashlyn is coming tonight.”

“The new girl?”

“New girl? Kyle, there was never an old girl!”  
  
“Sorry, sorry. The blind date girl?”  
“Yeah, her. She’s coming tonight. She didn’t ask me to buy her a ticket but I feel like I should’ve.”

  
Kyle’s laugh, one of the most comforting sounds in the world, rings through the phone.  
  


“Ali you’ll be okay. I doubt she’s going to judge you for not buying her ticket. Anyway, if she’s not a lowlife she’ll be able to afford her own.”  


You roll your eyes, not realizing he can’t see you.  
  


“I’m sure it’ll be okay I guess. I just hope we win. I’ll be embarrassed if we don’t.”  
  
“Ali Krieger doesn’t want to lose a club game because she’s afraid a girl won’t like her? You’re literally an international superstar. Don’t worry.”  
 

You sigh and decide to make a shift back to the regular scheduled chat.  
  


“So what’s up with you today?”  
  
Kyle regales you with the photoshoots he has booked and the models he’s working with. The only time you think you know what he feels like watching you play is when you hear him talk about his work. There’s a lot of words you don’t understand, even when he explains them to you.

 

1:31PM-4:00PM This is when you try to relax yourself for the game. You lock yourself in your bedroom, open your laptop, and try to watch anything that doesn’t have something to do with soccer. Sometimes you’ll retweet a game day tweet or browse Instagram, but today when you open your laptop you’re faced with the videos you never closed out of last night – Ashlyn and her soccer days. It takes all of your strength to close them out and not get sucked into it again. You put on the most recent episode of _The Bachelor_ and settle in, setting your clock for 4:00.

4:01PM-4:30PM This is when you get ready for the actual game and get moving. A part of that is always putting on your makeup. _Look good, feel good, play good_ after all. But today, you take extra care, triple checking what you already know is waterproof mascara. You really don’t want to have mascara running down your face when you see Ashlyn.

 

4:31PM-5:30PM The worst part of the day is the commute. It takes an hour most days, with DC traffic holding you at bay. So you roll up your windows and blast your pump up music as loud as you can. And when you finally pull into the parking lot, you put your Washington Spirit parking permit onto the dashboard and put your headphones on for the walk from the lot to the locker room. You have playlists for every opponent, since you watch the tapes you know when you’ll need to be more physical and when you can play smart. Your music changes accordingly.

 

5:31PM-7:00PM This is the time reserved for getting ready, getting psyched up with your teammates. Warmups. All the exciting pre-game stuff that is less routine, more mandatory. When you hit the field to warm up, Ashlyn is sitting in the stands. As you warm up, you try to keep one eye on the blonde in the stands. When you are scrimmaging, you fire a goal into the net and she cups her hands around her mouth and yells, “Let’s go Alex!” You nearly fall over and Crystal laughs at you and nudges you as she jogs by. “Keep it together, girl, you’ve got 90 minutes with her on the sidelines.”  
  


7:00PM Game time. You fasten the captain’s armband around your bicep and walk onto the field, with a small mascot gripping your hand for dear life. She seems especially excited to be walking out first, holding your hand, but nervous nonetheless. When they introduce your Portland Thorns adversaries, you clap politely. Alex Morgan and Tobin Heath get massive ovations, as they have since the 2012 Olympics. You clap louder for your teammates, waving to the crowd when your name and number is called.

 

You shake hands with the Thorns captain and jog back into position after they win the coin toss.

 

The game is a blur. Alex and Tobin are forces to be reckoned with and it takes screaming from your goalkeeper to get your backline in a place that keeps them at bay.

 

In the 12th minute, Alex Morgan is taken down hard by Hodak and you can tell it’s a penalty before she even gets up. As she steps to the penalty spot, you wait, knowing how Alex works. She’s not looking at the goalkeeper. She’s going to slot the ball in. Sure enough, it sails over the goalkeeper’s hand inside the left post.

 

You cringe as the goal celebration occurs, glancing up at Ashlyn in the stands. She’s in deep conversation with her friend, gesturing at the goal. She catches you staring and waves, giving you a thumbs up and a shrug.

 

The rest of the half is quiet and uneventful. Your top line is not able to put anything past the Thorns goalkeeper and things get chippy as the half winds down. When you head into the locker room, the frustration is palpable. After a long talk from Mark, you head back out to continue the game, dead set on scoring the equalizer.

Only six minutes pass before you make it that much harder. You are pressured hard, trying to keep the ball from the Thorns offense. A bad pass goes right to one of their midfielder’s feet. She low, off the right post and into the net.

 

“Shit!” you scream as yet another goal celebration begins. You refuse to allow yourself to look up at Ashlyn.

 

You don’t allow the mistake to happen again, turning it up as high as you can to take down the Thorns. In the 87th minute, Diana Matheson is fouled and fires a penalty kick past the Thorns goalkeeper. The lead is cut to one. But that’s where it stays. When the final whistle blows, you do all you can not to exhibit “unsportsmanlike conduct.”

 

After the team meeting and cool down, you wipe sweat from your brow and make your way to the stands. You try to make conversation with who you can, secretly grateful that so many people are trying to get Alex and Tobin’s autographs on the other end of the field. You take photos with everyone you can, signing as much as you can before hearing a voice you’ve grown quickly fond of.

  
“Ali Krieger! Excuse me, Ali Krieger!”  
  


You look up, cracking a smile as Ashlyn dangles her ticket in front of you.  
  


“Could you sign this for me?”  
  


You sign it, sticking your tongue out at her while handing it back. She slumps over the bar of the stands.  
 

“I’m sorry about the loss. At least you looked good doing it,” she says as you keep signing.  
  


“I’m glad you thought so.”  
  


“Can I buy you a drink?”  


“But we lost.”  
  
“Yeah, that means you don’t get,” she clears her throat as her friend laughs. “Kissed tonight. But I can still buy you a drink if you want.”

   
“Sure, can I change?”

   
“No, Alex, I want you to go to the bars with me suited up. Don’t even take your boots off.” She winks. “I’ll meet you at the gate?”

   
You nod, finishing up signing as quickly as you can. “Give me half an hour!”

   
Blowing kisses to the people you couldn’t get to, you jog back to the locker room to shower and change.

   
Your teammates are getting dressed and showering, and you know that by now, discussing the loss is all but useless. It’s best saved for when Mark and the coaching staff can review the tapes. Crystal bounces next to you.

   
“So, what’d your girl think?”

  
You groan.

  
“She wants to get drinks. But we lost. So I feel like we shouldn’t. But I told her we could. Do you want to come?”

   
“And meet this new girl? Absolutely!”

   
She is dressed and waiting by the time you leave the shower, and you put your hair in a bun and spray it into place before redoing your makeup and getting dressed in recovery clothes. You zip up your bag and let out a nervous sigh.

   
“Alright, let’s go.”

  
She stands up and you leave the locker room together. You spot Ashlyn and her friend’s shadows at the gate and your heart picks up to game level pace.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang goes to the club. For a little while, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess there's a soft NSFW warning on this chapter. But very soft.

Ashlyn is chatting with her friend casually as you approach. She stops as soon as she hears your footsteps, spinning to meet your eyes.  
  


“Hey! Great game!”  
  


She wraps you in another Old Spice hug. She looks stunning, as usual, in a bright red Washington Spirit t-shirt and black jeans.  
 

“Nice shirt,” you poke the Spirit logo in the middle of her chest.  
 

“I gotta rep my girl, don’t I?” Her grin is infectious and you smile as Crystal clears her throat, stepping forward with a hand out.  
  


“Hi, I’m Crystal.”  
  


“She was the one giving Portland hell tonight.”  
  


Ashlyn shakes her hand. “Hi Crystal, it’s great to meet you! This is my friend Eli. We’re big fans of your work.”

   
Handshakes are passed around and you feel sufficiently awkward as the lights of the stadium go out and you are standing under a single streetlamp.  
  


“What do you say we get out of here and back to DC?” Ashlyn asks.  
  


“Yeah, I have to drop my stuff off at home anyway. Crystal, you can leave your stuff with me and spend the night if you want?”  


Crystal laughs out loud, glancing between you and Ashlyn. “I’m not sure if I want to spend the night. But I’ll leave my stuff there and maybe pick it up in the morning.”

\-- 

The drive home is quiet, you and Crystal both know it’s one of the rare moments of decompression after a game. Crystal actually puts headphones in, which makes you feel better about not really wanting to talk. The loss is an annoyance. It’s early in the season, but you don’t want to deal with being two losses back already. You hope the bar and Ashlyn will serve as enough of a distraction that you don’t dream of that bad cross tonight.

 

When you arrive at your apartment, Ashlyn’s white Jeep parks out front while you run inside with Crystal. Ashlyn and Eli exit the car and Ashlyn comes to the door carrying a shirt in her hand.

  
“Do you mind if I change? Not that I don’t love repping the Spirit gear but I don’t know if it’s really clubbing apparel.”  
  


“Go ahead! You know where the bathroom is.”  
  


She practically bounces down the hall to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. Crystal puts her bag on the couch.  
  


“Are Alex and Tobin still staying here?”  


“Mhm. They like to go out after games though so we might see them if they hit one of the bars I recommended.”

 

She nods, tucking her wallet in her purse and taking out her phone. “I’ll call us a cab? By the time Ashlyn is done in the bathroom it’ll be here.”

 

“I’ll meet you out there, I should lock up behind us.”

 

You lean against the couch, waiting for Ashlyn, who emerges after a minute in a white t-shirt with a red bandana tied around her neck. She pecks you on the cheek and you tug on the bandana.

 

“Are you a cowboy now?”  
  
  
“No! This is very in right now.”

 

You laugh. “Right, okay, sure.”

 

She smirks, wrapping her arm around your waist.

 

“Look, I would really like to buy my favorite right back a drink and maybe dance a little. But if you’re going to make fun of my fashion sense, I’ll just take Crystal and Eli out and you can stay home.”

 

You lean into her and lead the two of you out the door. “I’m not going to turn down free drinks. But that doesn’t make that look any better.”

 

Eli and Crystal are waiting at the cab in front of the house. You rush to clamber in after them, hastily locking the door and tucking the spare key under the upper left corner of the doormat. Ashlyn pulls you into her lap when you clamber into the three-person backseat.

 

Crystal gives the driver an address and you peel away from the curb.

 

“I have to tell you, Ashlyn, I never thought I’d see Ali in a car without a seatbelt,” Crystal jokes.

 

Ashlyn wraps her arms around your waist protectively. “I got her,” she says, and you can hear the smirk in her voice.

 

Ash pays for the cab, swiping her card and plugging in a generous tip as you get out. 

\--

The bar is crowded, and Ashlyn and Eli split off to buy your drinks as soon as you settle at a table tucked away from the loud music. You settle in with her, shooing people looking for a seat around you. Crystal seems impressed.

 

“She’s very sweet. Not the type of girl I thought you’d go for.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”  


“Well first of all, she dresses really weird. Not bad weird – just weird. Second of all, she’s very sweet to you even though she’s a little intimidating. I also always thought you’d only date other soccer players.”

 

“Well she used to play!”  
  
  
“I know I know, I’m just saying! I wouldn’t have thought you’d pick a tattoo artist of all other jobs.”

 

Ashlyn and Eli arrive back at the table carrying drinks. You’re not sure what Ashlyn’s drinking, but it looks dark and full of whiskey. She brought you Manhattan, as you requested. She sits beside you, slinging one arm around your shoulder as she sips her drinks.

 

“Do you dance? I feel like I should’ve asked this before telling you I wanted to dance.”

 

She’s comfortable and easy to lean into.

 

“I’ll dance when I have a few drinks in me.”

 

She smirks. “Drink up. I’d like to see those moves.”

 

As you drink, she turns to Crystal, who’s been chatting with Eli.

 

“So Crystal, what do you do off the pitch? I used to have side jobs when I was playing.”  


She shrugs. Pay in the NWSL is awful, but she’s expecting to join the National Team senior player pool for World Cup Qualifying.

 

“Right now I work as a receptionist at a doctor’s office a couple days a week, but I’ll hopefully be done with that soon.”

 

“So you’re probably going to head to Canada with Alex, right? You seem cut out for it, the way you play.”  
  


“I mean I hope so! And you own a tattoo shop?”  


“I do, I do. I actually did a really really cool piece today, let me show you.”

  
As Ashlyn scrolls through her phone with her right hand, showing Crystal and Eli what’s undoubtedly a beautiful piece of artwork, you put one hand on her knee and squeeze gently. She shifts under the table, but only slightly, and you hear her speech hitch.

 

\--

It takes less time than you thought it would for the four of you to get drunk. Crystal’s always been a lightweight and you know that you’re exhausted, which has always lowered your tolerance. She leaves you after getting a text from your teammates that they’re at a bar nearby. You try to convince her to bring them to you, but she tells you that Ashlyn and you deserve “alone time.” She promises to text you when she gets there but whispers in your ear before she leaves. “She’s a keeper.”

 

Ashlyn is buzzed by the bottom of her second drink. As the night’s gone on, you’ve moved her hand from around your shoulders to around your waist. Her hands are big – she was a goalkeeper – and the feeling of her palm on the small of your back is reassuring and protective. And for whatever reason, very very sexy. When you finally wrap your arms around her neck on the dance floor and her body is pressed tight against yours, you aren’t sure if you’ll be able to keep from kissing her. It takes a few songs of having her hips pressed against yours and swaying with the beat for you to gather the nerve to ask. You lean in to speak in her ear and you can smell the whiskey as you pass her lips.

 

“So… you were kidding about the loss and not kissing you, right? Because if you’re going to buy me drinks and dance with me all night but not let me kiss you, I’m going to go home right now.”  
  
Ashlyn pulls back in mock surprise.

 

“Well then, I should probably call you a cab.”

 

You grin, knowing that drinking makes your smile wider.

 

“Only if you’re coming home with me.”   


You’re not usually brazen, and you know Crystal would roll her eyes. Your brother probably would. And Alex. And Tobin. But you are rapidly growing tired of being in the bar with anyone but Ashlyn. In public you have to be at least somewhat conscious of the way the world sees you, which cannot be hanging off of a girl on a club. You’re a role model and camera phones are a threat to that. And brazen works sometimes. You hope it’ll work tonight.

 

She’s about to respond when your phone buzzes in your pocket. It’s just Crystal texting you to let you know she’s with the girls, selfie included.

 

_Good luck!! Get laid!!_

You roll your eyes, trying not to imagine what she’s going to tell the team about Ashlyn.

 

Speaking of, she’s looking at you expectantly, and you remember you were in the middle of a conversation.

 

“Sorry, I…”

 

You’re cut off midsentence as she kisses you, in the firm way she does. This is the first time it’s felt like a surprise. Her hands anchor you to her and you feel like hers. Her kisses have quickly become one of your favorite things, and when she traces your bottom lip with her tongue you oblige. You tangle your fingers in her hair and deepen the kiss. It feels somehow like forever and a second before she pulls away.  

 

“Did you… want to go home? I’m not saying I expect anything, but this type of stuff is usually done better… alone, right?”

 

You nod, checking to make sure you have your bag and phone. She leads you outside, holding up one hand to hail a cab while holding you close to her with the other. You stand on your toes to press kisses against her neck as she flags down your ride home.

 

“Shit, I’ve just got to text Eli, okay?”  
  
  
Gone is the self assured woman who swooped into the blind date. Her hands are nervous and she seems frantic as she tells the cab driver where you live.

 

You pull away as she texts Eli, reading over her shoulder.

 

_Taking Ali home. See you tomorrow_

“Ashlyn, you know you don’t need to sleep with me right?”

 

She grins nervously.

 

“To be honest, Ali, I’m just worried about screwing it up before we get home.”

 

You laugh as she presses her lips to your neck, kissing gently from your earlobe down. A low moan escapes as her lips brush your collarbone, lingering in the groove before meeting your mouth again. She takes your lead, and when you press against her, she does all she can to pull you onto her lap in the cramped cab.

 

You are grateful the cab ride is quick and can barely bring yourself to pull yourself from her to swipe your card. Ashlyn’s hands are all over her as you fumble with the door, only to find it unlocked. She lifts you up effortlessly, pressing you against the wall when the door closes and running her hands over every inch of you she can. Her hands are sliding under your shirt when you hear someone else and nearly jump out of your skin.

 

“Excuse me, guys.”

 

There is Alex, standing in her pajamas with her hands on her hips. You have flashbacks of getting caught by your mother with your high school boyfriend and are suddenly unbearably embarrassed.

 

Ashlyn apologizes profusely.

 

“I am so sorry, Alex. I didn’t realize anyone was home… I doubt Ali did either.”  
  
You shake your head profusely, too embarrassed to say anything. Alex rolls her eyes as Tobin hides a laugh behind her hand.

  
“Can all of,” Alex gestures at the two of you, Ashlyn holding you against the wall with her hands under your shirt. “Just wait until tomorrow? Or at least move in there?” She points at the bedroom.

 

Ashlyn laughs, scooping you in her arms effortlessly. “Absolutely. Definitely. Again we are so so sorry.”

 

Alex grumbles something about the door being unlocked as Ashlyn kicks the door shut behind you and tosses you on the bed. She kisses you hard and you wrap your arms around her, hoping to pick up where you left off, but she pulls away quickly.

 

“I’m… not going to sleep with you with your friends in the next room. It feels a little too college to me. I don’t want to have to hush you and I definitely don’t want to embarrass you.”  


You raise your eyebrows skeptically. “Who said you’d have to hush me?”

 

She leans down to kiss below your earlobe and gently bites, eliciting a noise you didn’t know you could make.

 

“If that’s what happens when you’re fully dressed, I’m not going to test what happens when things are going on down here,” she murmurs, smirking against you and running her hand up your thigh. You groan and she kisses down your jaw before meeting your parted lips with hers.

 

“What I am going to suggest,” she says when she pulls away despite your best efforts, “is that maybe we both get some sleep? If you’re okay with me staying here.” You nod. The last thing you want is for this overconsiderate beauty to leave. She continues. “I can’t really believe you’re awake this long after a game. I’d be passed out. I just don’t really know what I’ll wear. Do you have a t-shirt or a tank or something I could borrow?”

 

You point at the t-shirt in your dresser. “Can you toss me one while you’re over there?”

 

She does, and when you pull your pants off you try to ignore the wet spot in your underwear. When you’re both dressed in your clothes, she climbs into the other side of your bed. As you come down from the adrenaline rush, you begin to drift to sleep, and your last conscious thought is of how nice Ashlyn’s arm feels around you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut is very intimidating to write! So I kind of glossed over it. Thank you, as always, for the feedback. It's always appreciated. All the love.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand the next morning.

You wake up first, with Ashlyn’s arm still draped over you. She’s facing away from you and you wonder if she has manners even in her sleep, trying to avoid breathing morning breath in your face. You extricate yourself from her embrace, slowly slipping out from under the covers.

 

After a few minutes, you get up, trying to ignore the headache pounding in your skull and checking what the time. It’s only 9AM, so you don’t rouse Ashlyn yet. After pulling on shorts,  brushing your teeth, and washing off the previous night’s makeup, you tiptoe through the living room where Alex and Tobin are sleeping, not ready to deal with more awkwardness after last night.

 

You set the coffee brewer for as many cups as it’ll make and it gurgles to life, humming just loud enough to wake up Tobin. You hear her shake Alex before she climbs out of bed to meet you in the kitchen.

 

“Sorry, I didn’t realize it was going to wake you up.”

 

She rubs the sleep out of her eyes and stretches her arms over her head.

 

“’sokay. We have to get up anyway. Flight back to Portland soon. Alex is going to have a lot to say if Ashlyn’s still here when she wakes up.”

 

“So I’ll just tell her she’s not.”

 

“I didn’t take you for the one-night stand kind of girl, Krieger,” she jokes as you both stare at the coffee pot.

 

“That so does not count as a one-night stand. We went on two dates this week!”  
  
Tobin laughs. “Right okay, dude, sorry. I’m more just wondering if you’re setting yourself up to have a plus one at Alex and Servando’s wedding.”

 

You bury your face in your hands.

 

“I’m just trying to figure it all out I guess. She’s very sweet and kind of a whirlwind. Something about her ends up sweeping me up and suddenly we’re on another date or she’s shouting my name at a game or we’re getting in a cab to come home. Or I’m daydreaming about her arm around me.”

 

The coffeemaker beeps and you pour yourself and Tobin a cup. You pull a mug from the cupboard for Alex. Tobin passes the milk to you after pouring an almost sickening amount into her mug. You both pad to the table and sit. Tobin somehow manages to sit cross-legged on the small kitchen chair.

 

“Do you feel like it needs to slow down?”

 

“I mean it’s fast. We’ve only known each other a week. But I don’t hate it. She’s easy to like and she’s fun to be around and she’s more than I’ve had otherwise in terms of recent romance.”

 

“So just go with it, you know? If she gets crazy, lock the door and call your teammates. But she seems pretty alright.”

 

Alex emerges from the bathroom at last, fully dressed and made up. Tobin picks up her clothes from the floor and half-jogs into the bathroom to change while Alex pours a cup of coffee.

 

“So is Ashlyn still here?”

 

She’s trying to be nonchalant, but you can hear the judgment in her voice. You shake your head. She sits down next to you at the table with her coffee and places one hand over yours.

 

“I just want you to make good choices. And not fall for anyone too quickly.”

She sips her coffee, which you know is full of milk and sickly sweet.

 

“That being said, if this works, I expect full credit when people ask how you met.”  
  
You grin.

 

“Of course.”

 

The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes. There’s a peace in your day that comes from starting with coffee and friends. If you could start every day like this, you would. Tobin comes out of the bathroom, slipping her feet in to her sandals and pulling her bag over her shoulder.

 

“Ready Alex?”

 

Alex stands, stretching and zipping her sweatshirt before picking her bag up as well. You follow them to the door, praying that none of the noise has woken up Ashlyn. After a round of hugs and see you soons, you open the front door for them to leave. You are sure you hear your bedroom door crack open so you shoo them as quickly as possible, waving out the front door.

 

“Love you! Let me know when you get to the airport okay!”

 

You slam the front door shut as you realize Alex has noticed Ashlyn’s car is still out front. As she calls to you, you can hear Tobin push her into the cab and pull the door shut. You spin on your heel to see Ashlyn, with a morning after glow stronger than you’d ever seen. She is running her hand through her hair, trying to calm what became untamed overnight and still wearing your t-shirt. She looks down at it when she notices you staring and clears her throat.

 

“Sorry. I just don’t have any clothes and didn’t want to put on what I was wearing last night yet.”  


You shrug, closing the space between you, fully intending to kiss her. She turns her head away from yours and you’re shocked and hurt. But Ashlyn is smart and realizes what she’s done quickly.

 

“That is not what I meant to do! I’m so sorry. I very very badly want to kiss you but I also really need to brush my teeth and I was wondering if you had an extra toothbrush.”

 

You breathe a sigh of relief you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

 

“Yeah, absolutely, check under the sink.”

 

After brushing her teeth, she places her hands on your hips and gives you the gentlest kiss you could hope for before withdrawing.

 

“I can smell coffee and as much as I love kissing you, my hangover would really kill for some caffeine.”

 

She prepares her coffee and you keep a careful eye on how - black with a single sweetener – before she sits down across from you.

 

“So last night was good.”

 

“Last night was good.”  
  
“And I really like you, Ali.”

 

You try not to turn red, but tuck your head down to grin with your tongue between your teeth.

 

“I mean that and I know this is moving fast, really fast. A week is really fast turnaround. But I also know I’m pretty sure things like this happen for a reason. I’m not,” she pauses and sips her coffee. “I’m not asking you to be my girlfriend or be exclusive or anything. Because you barely know me and I barely know you. But I want to tell you I’d like to keep seeing you and I’m not going to bail because we, you know, came home together.”

 

“Well I’m not going to bail on you either. I would really like to see you too. I just know what you’re signing up for. Starting Wednesday, I’m not home for pretty much the next two weeks straight for away games. And then World Cup Qualifying camp, qualifiers, the World Cup…”

 

She laughs, picking up your hand from the table.

 

“Jeez Ali, you said I was a whirlwind and you’re already talking about a year from now?”   


“You heard that?”  
  
She nods and gives you a wink before gulping down the remnants of her coffee and standing.

 

“I’m going to put on pants and go home. And you can call me next time you want to hang out. I’d really like to see you before you leave for the next couple weeks.”

 

All you can do is nod as she heads back to your bedroom, probably knowing full well you’re looking at her butt in her briefs. You put the morning’s coffee mugs in the dishwasher as she comes back out, looking elegantly disheveled. She kisses your cheek at the front door before checking for her money clip, phone, and car keys. Then she pecks you once more on the mouth and heads to the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another 2 chapter day! All the love.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A date before Ali leaves. Oh and a soft warning for you-know-what.

You don’t see Ashlyn Harris until the night before you leave. You’ve been texting back and forth all week, but between practice and last minute interviews and team commitments for you and solidly booked appointments for her, you haven’t been able to make it work. But texting her is a break from the minutia of your sport you didn’t realize was there. You don’t have many friends outside of soccer, you haven’t since it became virtually your life in college. So having someone whose job isn’t to compete with you or play with you is a nice change of pace.

 

Your teammates make fun of you sprinting to the locker room to check your phone as soon as cool down ends. For one of the first times in your life you’re not the first one on the field for practice, accidentally caught up in a conversation with Ashlyn about which Taylor Swift song is the best. It takes Crystal hollering your name at the door to get you to drop your phone and sprint out, barely remembering to lace your boots.

 

When you do finally see her, it’s because she drops by your house unannounced except for a single text.

 

_I hope you’re decent!_

She knocks on your front door and you almost don’t hear her over the music you’re blasting. But you run to the door, opening it wide to the blonde leaning against the doorframe holding a bag from the liquor store down the street with two fingers. She grins at you, in your shorts and National Team t-shirt, as you move out of the way to let her in.

 

“Hey, princess.”

 

You hadn’t forgotten her voice, per se, but you had forgotten how honey smooth it was, with her South Florida accent and well-founded confidence.

 

“Hey,” you gesture at your living room, in shambles from the bags you’re filling for time on the road. “I’m sorry it’s a mess, I wasn’t expecting you and I’m really bad at packing any earlier than the night before.”

 

She shrugs noncommittally.

 

“It’s okay. I’m not here to keep you from packing, I promise. I am here to keep you company though. And I know you’re playing in a couple days but my coaches never had rules about being dry for travel days.”

 

She pulls two bottles of wine from the liquor store bag, placing them on your counter. Mark doesn’t have any rules about being dry any earlier than 48 hours before the game, and you have a little more than that.

 

“Yeah, I’m okay to drink. The bottle opener is in the drawer beside the fridge.”

 

Ashlyn hasn’t made any attempts to touch you, not a hug or a touch on the side, so you decide against making the first move, opting instead to return to the piles of clothes you were folding to pack. She’s fairly quiet besides the frustrated sigh you assume means she doesn’t know how to use a bottle opener correctly.

 

“Doing okay in there, stud?”  


She laughs.

 

“I’m fine, it’s fine!”  


A moment later, there’s a pop and a quiet “yes!” from the kitchen. She strides back into the living room confidently, settling on the floor and passing you the juice glass she most definitely overfilled. She’s just far enough away that accidentally touching is impossible, and you are more disappointed than you’d have thought.

 

“You know, I do own wine glasses,” you say as she sips from her glass.

 

“I wasn’t going to dig through your cabinets and these were the first things I saw! And anyway, if you hate packing as much as me you’ll need all the liquid courage you can get.”

 

You roll your eyes, gingerly placing your glass down after taking a sip.

 

“I actually don’t mind packing. It’s kind of calming to have everything planned out and ready to go.”

 

“See I always end up just tossing almost everything I own in a suitcase and still managing to forget things.”  
  
“Maybe that’s because you drink while packing.”

 

“Well then I apologize in advance for making you forget whatever it is you’re going to forget.”

 

“The least you can do to make up for it is come here and help me fold, then.”

 

You wink and she does as she’s told, scooting over to sit beside you, her knee touching yours. You’re embarrassed by the way your heartbeat picks up just from simple contact.

\-- 

She packs with you for an hour, pausing only every now and then to refill both of your wine glasses. Falling into conversation with Ashlyn is easier than it is with some people you’ve known your whole life, and she’s eager to listen to everything from your pre-game nerves to the different modeling jobs Kyle’s gotten in the last week.

 

As the air around you starts to feel lighter and both of your movements are notably looser under the influence, Ashlyn starts to sing along with almost every song on your playlist, rapping where it’s appropriate, crooning the slow jams, and belting the bubblegum pop. When she doesn’t know the words, she just hums along, knowing full well you’re laughing at her.

 

When the last of your bags are zipped and placed by the front door, you finally decide to forego playing hard to get and pull her close to you. She seems surprised to not be the one taking the lead.

 

“I want to know why you haven’t kissed me. Or, like, touched me, tonight.”

 

She gets sheepish, looking down at her feet, even as your face is inches from hers.

 

“I was talking to the people I work with, to my friends, and they told me I was moving too fast. And I had to chill or you’d get freaked out.”

 

You laugh. “So you decided to show up to my house and get drunk with me but not actually put the moves on?”

 

“I wanted to hang out before you left! And I figured maybe if you wanted to keep being… romantic, you’d take the lead.”

 

“Ash,” you say, placing one finger beneath her chin to lift her face. “Is this taking the lead enough for you?”

 

You pull her in and kiss her, and she falls into your rhythm easily, her hands on the small of your back, pulling you in until your body is flush with hers. When she parts her lips to deepen the kiss, she tastes a lot like white wine and a little like spearmint gum. When she lifts your body to press you against the wall, much like a few nights earlier when you’d been unpleasantly interrupted, she begins to trail kisses down your jaw and to your neck and slides her hands under your t-shirt. 

\--

You learn a few things about Ashlyn Harris that night, first on your living room floor, then in your bedroom.  
  
The first time your slide your hand between her legs, you learn how wet she gets. When she finishes for the first time, her hips rocking against the fingers inside of her, you learn that, even retired, she is as loud as any goalkeeper you’ve ever heard screaming behind your backline. You find out she loves getting hickies almost as much as she loves giving them.  When she settles between your legs, you learn about an attention to detail that only an artist or an athlete could have. As you unravel beneath her, you’re grateful that she’s both.  
  


When you finally collapse beside each other, winded and wound down, you find out she is a little spoon.

\--

When the alarm on your phone goes off the next morning, you are so grateful that you set it before Ashlyn arrived. From the way your head aches and the time you read on the clock over Ashlyn’s shoulder the night before, you know you would’ve overslept otherwise. You shake Ashlyn gently, hoping to wake her up without pushing her off the bed.

 

“Babe,” you whisper, kissing along her shoulder. “Ashlyn.”

 

She stirs, only slightly, groaning and rolling onto her back.

 

“Wake up, Ash,” you say, trailing kisses up her neck. “I have to go to the airport.”

 

You see a smirk play across her face, but her eyes stay closed, even as you climb on top of her. As you move to climb over her, she anchors you in place with her hands, opening her beautiful hazel eyes for the first time all morning.

 

Any worry you had that morning breath might be an issue for her is assuaged when she pulls you down to kiss her. Her hands ghost up your body and you consider staying in bed and travelling late. But your second alarm goes off as her cold fingers brush across your chest and you groan, rolling off of her. She props herself up on her elbow.

 

“Do you want a ride to the airport?”

 

Ashlyn is dressed much quicker than you and cleans up the glasses and empty wine bottles while you do your makeup. While you’re putting the finishing touches on your eyeliner, you hear the front door open and close, and when you’re finally ready you find that she has loaded your bags in the back of her car. She’s spinning her car keys around her fingers and sitting on the couch as you slip into your shoes.

 

“Ready to go?”  
  


The car ride is quiet, but she rests the hand not on the wheel on your thigh. You talk through some of your nerves and she listens carefully even as she threads in and out of traffic. Every time you ride with her, you white knuckle the door handle a little less. When you finally pull into the airport, she gets out to help you with your bags.

 

“Good luck,” she says, pulling you into a hug.

 

“You can still text me and call me and stuff, I’m not like leaving the earth.”  


“Yeah, yeah.”

 

She’s sheepish again.

 

“Can I ask you something very fifth grade?”  


“Absolutely,” you try to hold a laugh back.

 

“Before you get on that plane I just want to know so I’m not wondering for the next 2 weeks.”

 

She clears her throat and stands up straight.

 

“Ali Krieger, do you want to be my girlfriend? Check yes or no.”

 

You roll your eyes, actually laughing now.

 

“Yes, I will be your girlfriend.”

 

She smirks and hugs you again.

 

“Alright, go kill em, princess. I’ll see you soon.”

 

You all but skip into the airport security line, texting Kyle as you do.

 

_Soooo… I have a girlfriend?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading, all the love and appreciation for your feedback!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A (brief) recap of the two weeks of away games.

Kyle’s elated. He calls you almost as soon as the read receipt on your phone shows that he opened your text. You talk to him in hushed tones on the airport security line, hoping that the people around you can’t hear him yelling through the speaker.

 

“So you fucked her and then she asked you out?”

 

“Kyle! I didn’t…” you lower your voice drastically, all but hissing into the phone. “I didn’t _fuck_ her!”  
  


“Oh I’m sorry. You made sweet love together and then she asked you out?”

   
“She came over and helped me pack! And then we got a little drunk and one thing led to another… And then this morning she asked me to be her girlfriend when she was dropping me off at the airport."  
  


“She slept over the first time you slept together? Ali, are you u-hauling already?”  
  


You groan, tucking your phone between your head and your shoulder as you show the TSA agent your license and plane ticket.  
 

“I’m not u-hauling, I wasn’t going to make her get out of my bed in the middle of the night and go home. I’m not you.”  
  


He feigns offense, gasping into the phone.

  
“I’m shocked, Alexandra, that you would accuse me of being so heartless. Did she at least buy you coffee this morning?”  
  
The officer hands your ID back and you begin to pile your bags on the security conveyor. Another TSA agent pantomimes hanging up your phone to you.

 

“There wasn’t time. Look Kyle, I’ve got to go through security, but I wanted to tell you! Love you, bye!”  


You can hear him beginning to rib you again as you hang up the phone and tuck it into your bag. After subjecting yourself to security and collecting your bags, you meet your team at the gate and begin to quietly explain your situation to the girls you’re close with. You have to start from the beginning for everyone but Crystal, but their oohs and ahhs make it worth it. It’s surprising, kind of, how easily you can describe Ashlyn to your friends after just a week. And Crystal is there to back you up when you have trouble explaining how she looks outside of _hot._

 

Her description is spot on, from the elaborate tattoos to the swagger in her step to the way her accent gets heavier when she drinks.

 

Crystal is the first to ask the question you’ve been dreading. Her voice is soft when she brings it up.

 

“So does this mean you have to, like, come out?”

 

You lean back in the stiff airport chair, focusing hard on balancing your carry on on the top of your feet instead of meeting your teammate’s eyes. You’ve thought about this a few times in the last week. You’ve never put a label on your sexuality, mostly because you never needed to. Nobody ever comes out as straight. It’s just assumed. You’re no Megan Rapinoe, no Abby Wambach. You’re not a _lesbian,_ at least you don’t think so. And it’s a lot of pressure to be a “gay athlete.” You’ve seen the way your out teammates have had to field question after question about the locker room and coming out stories. There was a time when the questions came so often that representatives had to ask interviewers to skip those questions and stick to soccer.

 

“Well I’m not _gay,_ you know?”

 

“Sorry, did the definition of gay change?”  


You try to kick her across the aisle between your seats.

 

“You know what I mean. It’s not like I always date girls, I’m just dating one right now! I can’t come out or whatever and then have things go south with Ashlyn and feel like I can never be with a man again.”  


“So what are you going to do? Avoid holding her hand anywhere in public?”

 

You sigh. You’ve been dating Ashlyn for all of an hour and already have stressors.

 

“I guess. I’m not going to force Ashlyn to be my, like, first ever girlfriend in public as well as my first ever girlfriend privately. Especially if I get picked for the National Team and we have to do all that press for the World Cup, I don’t really want to put that kind of pressure on her.”

 

Crystal shrugs. “I think it’d be kind of nice. I’d be flattered.”

 

You roll your eyes, pulling your phone from your purse to text Ashlyn, just to find she struck first.

 

_Hey! Let me know when you’re through security. Have a safe trip :)_

You type and retype your message a few times, trying not to seem too flirty or too romantic.

 

_I’m through! I’ll call you tonight when I get to the hotel. Thanks for the ride ;)_

You can picture the way she’ll smirk as you press send.

\--

The next two weeks move quickly but still too slowly. When practices end the day before every game, you return to the hotel and realize there was one thing you meant to practice or do a little more of and forgot. It takes all your self control to not go to the field on your own to get extra touches on, mostly because you’ve been lectured one too many times about “recovery” and rest, which usually amounts to you watching shitty cable in compression pants with your teammates. What’s different this time around is having Ashlyn checking in.

  
She does her best to wake up in time to send you a good morning text, but she’s not usually able to hold much conversation until 10 or 11AM. But once she’s up, she’s actively trying to get you to send her pictures of all the things you’re sightseeing or what the stadiums look like. She live-texts you through the games, but upon request begins to add minute-marks so that you can check which minute of the game she texted you a context-free _AAAAHHHHH._

 

You skype three times, and you swear to God she only says she’s available to talk when she’s half naked, her laptop sitting on the desk in her apartment while she lounges in gym shorts and a sports bra. You realize after the first time it’s best to only skype with her when there’s no one else around. And you have headphones.

 

The last game of the road trip is in Rochester, NY.  The whole team is itching to get the game over with and head home. The crowd is never big in Rochester and there’s not much to do. Far removed from New York City, it’s surrounded by farmland and very close to Canada. So after your last practice, you resignedly return to your hotel, texting Ashlyn to ask if you can skype as you climb into the shower.

 

When you climb out, clean and warm, you wrap yourself in a hotel robe and wrap your hair in a towel. You can hear Crystal’s voice on the other side of the door and jokingly yell out before stepping into the main room.

 

“I hope you’re dressed!”  


You hear Crystal’s laugh echoed by someone else’s.

 

“Is someone else in there? I’m in a robe and all my clothes are out there!”  


“Ali, relax, it’s nothing we haven’t seen before!” Crystal calls back.

 

You step out, pulling the robe tightly around yourself. Crystal is laying on her bed while a familiar figure stands in the middle of the room, backpack slung across her shoulder and duffel bag at her feet. It takes a second for you to take her in, in her black t-shirt and tight jeans, sunglasses perched on top of her head. Ashlyn looks up at you, one eyebrow raised, smirk playing at the edges of her mouth.

 

“Looking good, princess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been so long! Midterms have been eating up my life. I'll try to put together a longer update with some more fun stuff for Sunday! All the love. Thank you, as always, for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some fun in Rochester and a bit of a tough conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some NSFW in this chapter, right in the middle, so if you're not into that just scroll from the first -- to the second --!!
> 
> Sorry for the long spaces between updates but y'all know #dirty30 has me feelin some type of way.

Ashlyn’s hug doesn’t feel real. It’s easy to forget how someone feels solid and in the flesh, and Ashlyn is a special kind of firm you hope you never forget. She smells like Old Spice and airplane peanuts. She kisses your cheek before pulling away to face Crystal, who has already gathered her things.

“I’m going to go and shower in DMath’s room. You guys just… text me when the room’s freed up.”  
  


You open your mouth to tell her to stay, but Ashlyn speaks over her.  
  


“I’ll text you when we go for dinner!”  
  


As the door clicks shut behind Crystal, Ashlyn pulls you in again, kissing you with a fervor you missed. You pull away to press a hand on her chest.  
 

“Couldn’t go a full two weeks without seeing me? You had to pull off some dopey surprise with Crystal?”  
  


She rolls her eyes, sitting down on your bed and dropping her backpack at her feet.  
  


“I wanted to see you play. And this is the closest team besides Jersey. And I have friends up here!”  


“So you’re not here just to see me?”

 

Ashlyn makes no attempts to hide the smirk on her face. Your stomach does a backflip and you’re pretty sure she can tell, as she takes your hand and pulls you, still in your white hotel robe, onto her lap.  
  


“I’m saying I had other ways to justify coming to see the girl I’ve been dating for all of two weeks to the people who were making fun of me.”  
  


She cups your face in her hands and kisses you again, gently at first, but when you press into her – the way she feels against you, firm and strong and _real_ is too much to resist – she presses back, sliding her hands down the outside of your robe to find the knot you were dead set on making. You wish you hadn’t tied it so tightly as you feel her fumble with the knot before tugging it free.

 

You missed her hands on her bare skin. You know that one night together and weeks of hearing her whine to you, “I want to touch you,” was enough to get you going easily, so the feeling of her fingers brushing over your stomach and up your sides is like a head rush.   
  


Her lips trail up your jaw to your ear as her hands travel across your body. Her voice is strained when she murmurs to you.  
  


“You are so beautiful.”

\--

It doesn’t take long for her to get you undressed, and as sexy as it is for you to be straddling her while she’s fully dressed, your need to have her bare skin against yours leads to clothes tossed to the floor with reckless abandon. When she stands up to take her shoes off, you lay down on the unmade bed, impatient without contact. She takes a second to stare at you, splayed out across the bed, waiting, before straddling you, her body hot against yours.

 

Ashlyn is gentle with you until you beg her not to be, all soft kisses and light touches ghosting across your torso while she softly bites your neck in ways you know will require cover up for the game. But she listen when you grind against her and let out a throaty _please._ When you feel her inside of you for the first time in weeks, it takes all of your strength not to finish around the fingers she’s just curled inside of you as her lips move down your stomach to where you ache for her. When you whine through gritted teeth, begging her not to stop, she raises her lips from your clit to shush you. Her breath is hot and her voice is raspy as she uses her free hand to hold your bucking hips in place.

 

“If anyone hears you, we’ll have to stop. And I _really_ don’t want to stop.”  

 

That shuts you up and as you tumble over the edge you focus on threading your fingers through Ashlyn’s hair, holding her in place. When your legs finally stop shaking, she props herself up on her elbow, pulling her fingers from you to lick them clean.

 

“So did you miss me?”

 

You roll your eyes, trying to muster to energy to pull her to you and wipe the smirk off her face.

 

When you’re able to turn the tables and it’s her pinned beneath you, hands twisting into the sheets, breathily pleading for you to _stay right there Alex, please Alex don’t stop,_ that smirk is nowhere to be found. When she’s finished and move from between her legs, the way she looks with her chest heaving and her eyes closed makes you want to start over again.

 

Ashlyn welcomes the way you kiss her, but plays responsible when she feels you begin to move against her again.

 

“I am not going to make you _that_ person who sexiles their roommate. There’s plenty of time for that when we get back to DC. Are you hungry?”

 

\--

As you both get dressed (which takes longer than it should) you make the decision to order new sheets from housekeeping. Ashlyn laughs at you when she hears you on the phone and when you hang up, she pauses pulling her shirt over her head to make fun of you.

  
“Do you really think she’s going to be able to tell? Does it smell like sex in here and I’m just missing it?”

 

You can feel yourself blushing as you finish getting dressed. Housekeeping arrives as you’re putting the finishing touches on your makeup and Ashlyn directs them to your bed.

  
“Thank you so much. Gotta keep some secrets from the roommates, you know?”

 

You swat Ashlyn’s arm, trying to convey apologies to the poor maid. Ashlyn tugs you by your hand into the hall.

 

You walk to Chipotle side by side. It’s hard to be low-key about refusing Ashlyn’s attempts to hold your hand. The conversation you’d had with Crystal not too long ago – about coming out and subjecting Ashlyn to it – hadn’t come up between the two of you yet and you were hoping to avoid it until the relationship felt less like a honeymoon. But when you feel the need to move away from the hand she places at the small of your back and when you refuse to let her pay for your order, you can feel her getting nervous. When you carry your trays to the most secluded metal table in the room, you can see the tension built in her shoulders.

 

“Did I do something somewhere between your bed and the sidewalk? Is it because I made a joke to the housekeeper? I didn’t know that would upset you…”

 

It hurts, really, to see her so worried about upsetting you over something so trivial. You can’t help but laugh a little at how she doesn’t even realize what’s going on. It takes a minute for you to figure out what you’re going to say to her. She doesn’t start to eat, just looks at you with soft eyes. You try to keep your voice low.

 

“Ash, I’ve never dated a girl.”

 

She smirks. “Could’ve fooled me.”

 

“No, Ash, I’m serious. I’ve never dated a girl. You know that. I’m kind of a public figure, right?”

 

She nods, arms folded across her chest now.

 

“Alex if you’re about to drop some homophobic bullshit on me right now, I swear to God.”

 

“It’s not that, babe,” you reach for her, but think better of it and pull it back. “It’s just that if we – if you and I are going to be dating out in public. Like we kind of did in Washington, holding hands, kissing in public… God I don’t even know how anyone hasn’t said anything yet.”

 

You know you’re rambling and her eyes narrow a little more with every change of thought. You clear your throat to gather your thoughts.

 

“If I’m a public figure, a professional athlete, which I am, coming out with a girlfriend is really different than just starting to take a guy to events. I have to be a _figure,_ you know?”

 

She nods, settling forward onto her elbows, fingertips toying with the points of the fork beside her bowl.

 

“I’m not saying I don’t want to date you. I’m not saying I don’t love being around you and having sex in hotel rooms and going on dates and being with you. It just means I’m not ready to share you with everyone yet. I have to talk to my family and I should talk to my manager. I don’t want to do the whole process of coming out, bringing you home to my family, just for this to not work. So for now… I can’t hold your hand in the street and I can’t let you buy my dinner and I can’t be your girlfriend to everyone yet.”

 

Your voice cracks, but her eyes are soft and you know she’s listening. When she finally speaks, her voice is gentle.

 

“I get it, Alex.”

 

“That’s it? You get it? That’s all you’ve got?”

 

She shrugs.  “It was hard enough for me to come out when I was in college and all of three people gave a shit about me. I can’t imagine the position you’re in, Miss 2011 PK. I’m not interested in making you uncomfortable or unhappy, right? That’s the opposite of what a partner is supposed to do. So we can pace it how you want. And as long as you still like me and I still like you, which I can’t imagine wouldn’t happen, you can take your time.”

 

Ashlyn winks when she sees you cracking a smile. The knot in your stomach you didn’t realize was there has come undone and you feel better.

 

“Thanks, Ash.”

 

“Now if you made my Chipotle go cold, we might have an issue.” 

\-- 

You win the next night and play what you’d consider some of your best soccer. And while it’s against the Western New York Flash, who are hardly competition, it’s still gratifying to look into the stands and see Ashlyn jump in the air every time you send a good ball in. She’s there with the friends who let her crash on their couch, who are clearly embarrassed when she screams your name from the stands.

 

Not that you aren’t embarrassed. You know you’ll get jokingly accused of showing off in the locker room, even if it did help get the W. When the game is over and cooldowns are done, you spend some time signing on your way back to the lockers. Ashlyn waves at you from behind the gaggle of girls waiting on your autograph, a proud grin on her face.

 

You take the jibes from your teammates like a champ, even when Mark tells you to “keep that one if she’s going to make you play that sharp.” Ashlyn’s texted you twice since the game ended.

 

_Amazing game! So proud of you._

_I’ll meet you by the car!!_

You try not to rush through your shower, wanting to get yourself together as quickly as possible but still look good. After pulling your hood over your wet hair and shuffling out to the parking lot without getting spotted, warmth floods your chest when you see Ashlyn leaning against the car. It’s not hers, so you know she’s not going to pull you into the backseat and _take you_ , but you are dying for her to just kiss you.

 

It’s like she hears your silent prayers, pulling you in by the front of your sweatshirt and murmuring as low as she can.

 

“Is it dark enough to kiss you here?”  
  


You nod without thinking, knowing the mostly empty parking lot is definitely dark enough, trying to stay calm and coherent as her lips press against yours. It’s hard not to consider just what can be done in a parking lot as you wrap your arms around her, but you’re quickly interrupted by the hooting and hollering of Ashlyn’s friends in the front seat. You jump 5 feet in the air and Ashlyn spins on her heel, slapping the door of the car.

 

“Guys! For fuck’s sake!”

 

You’re able to meet her friends, who profusely apologize for scaring you out of your wits, before Crystal texts you that the bus is leaving for the airport.

 

Ashlyn kisses you on the cheek before you run to the bus. When you unlock your phone, you’ve got a notification on Instagram from one @ashlynharris24. It’s an action shot of you during the game.

 

_So amazing to see @akrieger11 bring home the W tonight for @WashSpirit! Proud of you, boo boo!_

You double tap, trying to suppress a grin as you pull your headphones over your ears for the ride to the airport for your late night flight home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Your feedback is always appreciated. All the love. x


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We jump forward a few months... and things start to change a bit.

“Ali Krieger. Four fast facts you need to know.”

 

Ashlyn smirks, sipping her coffee at your kitchen table. You can feel your face turning red and you try to focus on the egg whites you’re scrambling.

 

“Someone tweeted this at me. I bet I know all of them,” she says. You can tell how smug she is, even with your back turned.

 

It’s been six months since you started dating. The NWSL season has ended and you’ve tried to settle into daily life. It was not pretty, the Spirit had a last place finish you try not to think about. Ashlyn’s been by your side through it all, taking you for dinner on your birthday, replacing Kyle as your pre-game coffee phone call.

 

Most morning start the same now. You wake up in the morning, go for a run, come home, make breakfast. Then it’s always something different. Some days you are doing media appearances. Some days you’re in the gym all day. Some days you are doing paperwork. Some days, you have chunks of free time you’re not sure how to manage. Some mornings Ashlyn is there. She spends a few nights a week with you and while she tries to drag herself out of bed when you leave to go running, you often return home and shower as she drags herself from bed. Sometimes the sound of the shower is enough to wake her up. Those mornings she sometimes chooses to join you, but other mornings you leave the shower to the smell of brewing coffee and her waiting for you in the kitchen in her briefs and one of the tank tops she’s “forgotten” after spending the night.

 

Ashlyn is a hit on social media. All it takes is a few tweets at you, a few witty responses from you, and she’s become a bit of a social media phenom. A few times she’s outwardly wondered to you, “what do you think it takes to get verified?” Which is cute. But it doesn’t take a genius to notice the massive uptick in pictures posted and affectionate captions. Ashlyn has coached you on the different filters to make you look more “fancy” and there are pictures she takes of you that are so breathtaking you can’t help but post them. You try not to let it bother you, as long as Ashlyn isn’t bothered by it.

 

“First. She played every minute of the 2011 World Cup,” Ashlyn puts on a fake reporter voice, one similar to the voice she makes fun of you for after every post game interview. “Ali Krieger made her debut with the National Team in 2008, but her breakout year was 2011. Krieger’s performance was a bright spot moving forward. Listen to that, you’re a bright spot moving forward.”

 

You roll your eyes, flattered but also embarrassed as you slide the scrambles onto two plates. The only articles on Ashlyn are about her tattoos and the “flourishing art scene” in DC, and none of those have fast facts.

 

“Second. She almost died! In 2005 from blood clots in her lungs. How do they consider that a fun fact about you?”

 

You gently rest a hand on her wrist after placing the plate in front of her.

 

“They said fast, not fun, babe.”

 

She shakes her head, ignoring the plate in front of her to continue reading.

 

“Three. She played in Sweden alongside USA teammates Engen and Press. Check. Number four. She’s _very close_ with DC area tattoo artist Ashlyn Harris.”

 

She looks up at you after reading this aloud, raising one eyebrow with the smirk you want to kill her for. You choke on your eggs, gulping coffee to clear your throat, reaching out with one hand to grab her phone from her. She pulls it farther from you playfully, grabbing your outstretched hand with her free one and lacing her fingers with yours.

 

“Ahem. ‘On the _personal side_ , it is unknown if Krieger is currently in a relationship. That being said, she has grown very close with Ashlyn Harris, who owns tattoo shop Carpe Diem in Downtown DC, in the last six months.’ Free promo, thanks babe. ‘Krieger had a boyfriend while she was at Penn State, but there have been no mentions since!’”

 

You know your jaw must be on the floor, and Ashlyn drops her joking tone as soon as she sees your face. She pulls the hand linked with yours to her lips and kisses your fingers gently, running her thumb across yours. You try to compose yourself. It’s hard to believe people could pick up on it in _six months_.

 

“I guess I’m not surprised,” you say, trying to mask the panic rising in your chest. “It’s not like we’ve been hiding our… companionship that well.”

 

She meets your eyes, trying to figure out what you’re feeling. If you knew, you’d tell her. On one hand, it feels better that somebody has picked up on what you have with Ashlyn and no one’s come charging at you with slurs and anger. But on the other, now that there’s speculation there’s more pressure to figure out if coming out is necessary. Her voice is soft, her drawl lilting when she lets go of your hand to begin to eat.

 

“It’s one article, Alex. Don’t worry about it. I doubt anybody will even read it.”

 

It takes a few minutes, but you’re able to settle into breakfast, your racing heart slowing down as she changes the subject to appointments and grocery shopping, hoping to settle you down.

 

\--

You have to call Kyle after breakfast, when Ashlyn heads to work for the day, kissing you at the door before she goes. He’s been kind and encouraging as you’ve figured out your relationship. When you Skyped him to show him the outfits you were thinking about the first time you met Ashlyn’s best friend Whit, he coached you through it. When you had a crisis over how long you could keep your nails, he calmed you down. It takes a few minutes to get through the regular banter – Kyle gets very excited about the goings on of his own life and you’re excited for him too, even if it sometimes means having to bite your tongue to let him gush. This week it’s a new modeling gig with a new man. When he settles down, he finally asks about you.  
 

“How are you? How’s vacation treating you? How’s Ash?”  
  


“I’d hardly call it a vacation,” you laugh, thinking of the hours you still spend in the gym with your trainer. “But it’s good. Ashlyn’s good. We’re good.”

  
He can hear the hesitance in your voice, you’re sure of it.  
  


“Okay… so why’d you call me? I know it’s not just to chat.”  
  


“Yeah. Not that I don’t love chatting you! I just…”  
  


“You just only call me urgently when there’s something wrong. So what’s actually up.”  
  


“This morning Ashlyn read me an article and she was mentioned in it.”  
  


“As your girlfriend? Or as your friend?”  
  


“As someone I’m _very_ close with.”  
  


You can hear his gasp of realization on the other end and the clicking of the keys on his keyboard. He’s looking up the article, you’re sure of it.

“So people are speculating about you? Is that what you’re saying?”  
  
“I guess so.”  
  


“Alex, that’s not really a bad thing. It doesn’t even actually say anything.”  
  


He pauses.  
 

“But don’t read the comments.”  
  
Your heart is at gameday pace again. You hadn’t thought of the comments.  
  


“They mostly just say that you’re too pretty to be a lesbian.”  
 

“But I’m not a lesbian!”  
  


“Alex, I know that! You don’t have to come out to anyone or identify as anyone or anything, I promise. People are the internet are just idiots.”  
 

You’ve pulled your knees to your chest on the couch, almost whispering into the phone, forgetting that no one can really hear you inside of your apartment.  
  


“The only people who know are the girls from the Spirit and you. And Alex and Tobin but I don’t think they know it went past that second date. I haven’t told _anyone_ else.”  


“No one? Really? Not even HAO?”

 

You shake your head before realizing he can’t see you. “Not even HAO. I mean, what if I go through all of this coming out stuff and then it doesn’t work?”

 

“Alex, that can’t be your justification for not telling anyone forever.”

 

“ _Forever?_ Kyle, it’s been six months!”  


Kyle laughs before backpedaling. “I don’t mean really forever; I just mean in the immediate future. There’s a lot of people in this world who care about you, they’re not going to get upset or whatever because you’re dating a girl.”

 

“But what if it gets back to mom and dad?”

 

That’s not your biggest fear, losing your job is. But you remember what the house felt like when Kyle first came out – it felt like a powder keg seconds from exploding every time you sat at the dinner table. It calmed down after a few months, but you couldn’t imagine being in the spot Kyle was in. You were the princess of the family, not a disappointment.

 

“Well then they’ve got another gay kid! Or whatever. Another kid dating the same gender. And they’ll deal with it. They already dealt with it once and it’s fine now. They love you, Ali, same as they love me. They’ll be fine with it. The trick is to patient with them. If I could go back, I’d probably bring home a guy with me so they could put a face to the concept. So maybe it’s better to tell them you’re dating Ashlyn than telling them you’re… whatever it is you are.”

 

You pick at your nail polish, making a mental note to schedule a manicure when you’re off the phone.  
  


“So you’re saying I should bring my girlfriend home to Dad.”  
 

“Maybe as a good friend first? A _companion_?”  
  


He snickers as he says the last word, much to your chagrin.  
 

“Maybe I’ll call Dad. And HAO.”  
 

“Good idea, kid. It’ll be okay.”

  
When you get off the phone, you deliberate for a second between your father and HAO before pressing down on HAO’s contact info. She’s jubilant, as usual, when she picks up and you can feel the knots in your stomach come undone.  
  


“Krieger!”  
  


It takes a few minutes to catch up on how she’s doing, what’s new, but eventually you’re able to find a break in the banter.  
  


“So I’ve been seeing someone.”  
  


“I _knew_ you were up to something! What’s his name? What’s he like?”  
  


“Well…” you exhale deeply. “Her name is Ashlyn.”  
  


“Oh sorry!” she apologizes immediately. “I didn’t know you swung that way, I only ever heard you talk about guys, so I just kind of assumed. But Ashlyn! What’s she like? Where’d you meet her?”  
  


“So you’re not, like, freaked out or anything?”  


“Why would I be freaked out? It’s not like I’ve never met anyone gay before. I know it’s been a while but do you remember Abby?”  
  


You roll your eyes, laughing into the phone.  
 

“I just wasn’t sure. I’m really relieved, though.”  
 

“Now you’ve got to tell me how you met. And how long this has been going on!”  
 

“We met on a blind date. Kind of. She picked me up when I got stood up. And then we went out a few more times. And she visited me in Rochester. And the rest is kind of history.”  
  


“How long is the rest, though? Tell me it’s only been a couple weeks.”  
 

“Sort of… more like 6 months, give or take?”  
 

“You’re telling me you were able to keep the fact that you were dating someone a secret for six months? Through your birthday?” She stops suddenly. “Wait. Ashlyn. Is this the one from Instagram? The pouty one? The pouty one you posted a picture with on your birthday?”  
  


You groan, throwing your head back.  
  


“Yes, that Ashlyn. The pouty one, I guess. We went out for my birthday.”  
  


“I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out sooner! I’m going to follow her."   
  
She’s worked up, you can hear it in her voice. “HAO. You have to keep this under wraps as long as you can, okay? You can tell the girls, but don’t tell anyone outside of the team, okay?”  
  


“I won’t, I promise.”

You know that by the time you get to your next camp, who are you kidding - by the end of this day, everyone will know that Ali Krieger has a girlfriend. A pouty girlfriend who takes her out for her birthday. But after this conversation, you think you can make your peace with that. The team is your second family. Even if your first family doesn’t like Ashlyn, your team will will. HAO’s acceptance is a gentle reminder of the people who held you tight when you tore your ACL in qualifying and applauded you when you sent them videos of your recovery. They patted you on the back every time you played against them in the NWSL, because they weren’t sure if you’d get back, let alone be better. They love you and you love them.

 

When you hang up, relieved, and text Kyle that _She loved it! She can’t wait to meet her,_ you realize the hard part is next. Your father. You try more than once to think of a script, a way to casually invite your friend over without making her sound like a girlfriend. And decide to put it off for another day.

~

You decide to use your free day to make something nice for Ashlyn after receiving texts throughout the day with derivatives of   
  
_When do we get to meet her?_  
  
How’d you score that one?  
  
Never would’ve thought you’d pick a tattooed girl.   
  
She’s going to be overwhelmed by your National Team teammates very quickly, and you want to lay it on her with a nice dinner. You make her a mac and cheese recipe you find after scrolling through pages of Buzzfeed clickbait and open a bottle of wine before she’s due to get there.  
  


Ashlyn arrives at your apartment smelling like tattoo ink and cigarettes from her coworkers, promising to shower. As she does, you finish cooking and set the table. When she emerges from the bathroom in her boxer briefs and a Washington Spirit t-shirt, she smirks, crossing the living room to pull you into her arms.

   
“What’d I do to deserve this?”  
  


It takes all your willpower to untangle yourself from her to sit down at the kitchen table.  
  


“I wanted to talk to you about something. About this morning.”  
  


She’s concerned. You can tell as she sits across from you, putting her elbows on the table to rest her chin in her hands.  
  


“It’s not bad,” you say, trying not to smile. “After you read me that article I called Kyle and we talked about the whole speculation thing. And I decided I wanted to tell some of the people who I’m close to. The girls from the national team.”  
  


You can see the tension in her shoulder as she processes. “What’d they say?”  
 

“Well, they’d really like to meet you before really passing judgment. But HAO referred to you as the pouty one from Instagram. Most of them mentioned your tattoos.”  
  
You can see her exhale as her face splits into a grin.  
  


“I definitely am the pouty one from Instagram.”

   
“I also kind of wanted to tell you something else.”  
  


“Lay it on me,” she says, grinning. You weren't sure she'd be thrilled that you did this in one day, but she's beaming.  
  


“I kind of want you to meet my dad. As my friend first, but I want him to know you. But that can definitely wait if you want it to. And I want you to actually meet Kyle. And my mom too, but Kyle and dad are probably more realistic right now.”  
 

Her smile doesn’t falter, but she raises her eyebrows.  
  


“This is like, a completely different path than we were on this morning. Are you sure about this?”  
 

“I know. And I’m sure. This doesn’t mean I want to come out to everyone yet, but I’m tired of having a secret girlfriend around my family and my friends. I want them to know about you.”

  
It all comes out too fast, and you find yourself catching your breath when you’re done saying it, but it’s out and now you know she’s going to help you follow through.  
  


“Alex, you tell me where to be and I’ll be there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you liked this chapter! I am excited about where this is going now that we're past the early dating type stuff. Sorry for a giant time jump but I was getting jammed writing early stuff. Oh also yikes this article is REAL but it's from 2015. I just really like it and wanted to use it as a springboard. I hope u can forgive my small timeline twist.
> 
> Your comments are always appreciated. All the love. x


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of stressful events.

You don’t call your father, as much as you mean to. Kyle bothers you for a few days with texts.

 

_Let me know what he says!_

_Did you call him yet?_

_When’s dinner?_

You try to respond as politely as possible.

 

_Let me live! This is harder than you think!_

 

Ashlyn prods too, but gently. When you spend the night at her apartment, she asks while tucked under a blanket with you on the couch watching TV.

 

“Have you talked to your dad?”

 

You wish you could sink farther into the couch when she asks. It’s not that you’re uncomfortable calling, it’s that you can’t figure out how exactly to present Ashlyn to your father. A friend? A companion? A pal?

 

“Not yet.”

 

She shrugs, tracing patterns on your skin and turning her attention back to the TV.

 

You give yourself deadlines for every day, saying you’ll call at five. What it comes down to is that you’d rather slide tackle someone twice your size than call your father and have him reject you.

 

At the end of it all, he’s the one who calls you. He calls while you’re out with Ashlyn, on the way to Target with her hand resting gently on your thigh as she navigates DC traffic. When your phone starts ringing, she turns down the music and points to the phone you’re turning over in your hands.

 

“Aren’t you going to answer that?”

 

“No, it’s fine, it’s just my dad.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yeah, I’ll just call him back later.”

 

She shrugs, turning the car into the parking lot.

 

You check your messages while grabbing mascara as Ashlyn wheels a cart towards the produce.

 

“Hey Alex, it’s me, I was hoping I’d catch you but I know you’re busy. Not sure if Kyle told you, but he’s scheduled a shoot in DC for next weekend and he was hoping you’d be around to come over for dinner. I hope this isn’t too short notice, but you know how he is. Let me know what time works for you so I can tell Kyle how to schedule his shoot. Alright, love you!”

 

You try to suppress a groan, firing a text to Kyle as soon as the message was over.

 

_Is this really so important that you fly across the country??_

He responds quickly, and you know he’s been waiting for your text since he got off the phone with Ken.

 

_I had to take matters into my own hands!! See you next weekend!!_

It takes all your power to walk, not run, to Ashlyn, who’s trying to knot a plastic bag of apples so they stay in place in the cart. She smiles when she sees you, holding up the bag.

 

“Those honey crisps you like are on sale!”

 

She can pick up on your stress immediately and drops the apples in the cart.

 

“What’s going on? Is your dad okay?”  


You nod, laughing a little. She raises her eyebrows, unsure of how to proceed.

 

“My dad is fine. He’s fine. Kyle is just an jerk.”  


“What’d he do?”

 

“Is this a conversation you want to have in the middle of Target?”

 

“What’s the other option? You’re a bad liar and I’m not good at waiting.”

 

She takes the cart and pushes it away from you and you fall into step beside her. You try not to talk too fast.

 

“So you know how Kyle convinced me that you should meet my dad?”  
  
“Mhm.”  


“I’ve been kind of putting off calling him to ask for the last few days. And Kyle’s been bugging me about it and I think he thought I was going to chicken out.”

 

You pause as she tosses two bags of spinach in the cart.

 

“So anyway, my dad called just now and left me this whole message about how Kyle’s scheduled a shoot in DC so he’ll be in town next weekend and he wants to have a family dinner.”

 

Ashlyn stops in her tracks, spinning on one heel to face you.

 

“And that’s how I’m going to meet them?”

 

You shrug, trying to seem nonchalant and probably failing. Definitely failing.

 

“I mean you don’t have to go, obviously. I would be happy to see them without you. If it’s not something you’re into, I totally understand. I don’t want to get you all freaked out.”  


You know you’re talking too fast again from the way your breath is catching in your throat, and she looks around before placing her hands on your shoulders. When she smiles, you feel a weight you didn’t know was resting on your chest rise.

 

“Alex, it’s going to be fine. We’ll have a good time. Just tell me what night and what time so that I can get off of work.”

\-- 

You call your father back on the car ride home. Ashlyn is quiet, but you can tell she’s straining to hear both sides of the conversation from the driver’s seat. You lean against the window, trying to keep your heart rate down.

 

“Hey, it’s me.”

 

“Hey, you got my message?”

 

He’s always brisk on the phone. He doesn’t like phone calls, he’d rather be speaking in person. Even when you were traveling with the National Team or living in Germany, he was brisk with you on the phone. Which makes conversations like this much easier.  


“Yeah, and I’m around next weekend. I’m so excited to see you both! Did you want to do it Friday night? Or Saturday?”

 

“I think Kyle’s coming in on Friday and his shoot is Saturday, so maybe Saturday night is better. That way he won’t be jetlagged.”  


“Works for me!”

 

You take a deep breath.

 

“Um, I also wanted to ask, I’ve got a friend who’s going to be in town. I was wondering if I could bring her?”

 

“Kyle mentioned you had a friend hanging around,” he says slowly. You’re not sure if you’re imagining the subtext of _I thought she was a man._ “Is she one of the National Team girls?”

 

“No, I met her through… a friend. I totally understand if you don’t want her to come, family time and all.”

 

He clears his throat and hesitates for what feels like an hour but is only a second.

 

“If she’s special to you, she’s welcome here. I’ll see you next week!”

 

“Alright, sounds good. I’ll see you next Saturday! Love you.”

 

“Love you too, Alex.”

 

When you hang up, Ashlyn’s voice is soft.

 

“So are we going to dinner?”  
  
  
You smile at her, trying to crush the nerves rising in your stomach.

 

“We’re going to dinner.”

\--

There were a few nights in the two weeks between when you made the plans with your father and the actual dinner where you were ready to cancel. You ran your fingertips up and down her arms, asking quietly if she was really okay with it, if she wanted to wait a little bit longer.

 

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” she had said, her voice firm and reassuring, every single time. “I’m a grown woman, I can meet my girlfriend’s father.”

 

“And brother.”

 

“And brother.” 

 

The morning of, when you woke up with her between your legs, trying to wake you quietly, she had been fine. When you finished, one hand in her hair and the other twisted in the sheets, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and kissed you, smirking. When she bounced out of bed to iron her shirt, she almost seemed excited.

 

“So what are we having?” she had asked, carefully ironing the collar of her shirt as you watched from bed.

 

“I’m not sure, do you want me to text him and ask?”

 

She had laughed, ironing a crisp crease in her sleeve.  

 

“No, it’s fine. I was just curious.”

 

When she was done ironing and hung the shirt on a hanger, she rejoined you in bed, pulling you close even when you protested at her cold feet. You asked for what felt like the millionth time.

 

“You’re sure you’re going to be okay? I could call him and tell him you’re sick.”

 

“I’m okay, don’t worry. I’m excited,” she had said, letting out a deep breath. “It’ll be good!”

 --

But in the parking lot of Starbucks, her last chance to bail before taking the hour-long drive to your hometown, that calm, confident Ashlyn Harris is gone. She looks stunning, as she always does, with her shirtsleeves cuffed around her elbows and a tie around her neck. But she’s nervous. When you return to the car, drinks in hand, she’s fidgeting in the passenger seat, adjusting her tie, cracking her knuckles, scrolling through Twitter far too quickly for her to actually be reading anything. You gingerly place her drink in the cupholder and reach across the console to take her hand.

 

“It’s going to be okay, Ash. It’s not even… he doesn’t know. And Kyle already loves you because all I’ve talked about for the last six months is you. He’s asked to facetime you like twelve times and I won’t let him because I want him to meet you so badly.”

 

She won’t meet your eyes, looking instead at your fingers laced with hers.

 

“I’m just nervous about meeting them. I don’t want to do the wrong thing. Like, should I roll my sleeves down so they can’t see my tattoos? Should I take my tie off? What if I spill coffee on my shirt and then I look like a mess?”

 

 You try not to laugh, but she must hear the hitch in your breath as you swallow it. She furrows her eyebrows and nudges you gently.

 

“Don’t laugh! I’m serious. I want to be the best version of me I can for this.”  
  
  
“Aren’t you the best version of you all the time?”  
 

She rolls her eyes, and you can’t help but smirk.

 

“Ash, we’re going to have a good time. And they’re going to love you, just like I do.”

 

Ashlyn raises her eyebrows, twisting to face you in the passenger seat. You realize what you’ve said a minute after saying it and cover your mouth with one hand.

 

“Wow. That is… not how I expected us to do this,” Ashlyn says with a laugh.

 

“I promise I didn’t mean to tell you I love you for the first time in a Starbucks parking lot.”

 

You haven’t moved your hand from your mouth. It’s not that you don’t love her, how could you not love someone like her – someone who supported you and made you happier than you’d ever been, someone whose hand you had come to expect on your waist, someone who knew exactly how you liked your coffee, someone who all of your friends welcomed with open arms – but you had always pictured telling her over some romantic dinner or at the beach, not when she was already stressed about meeting your family.

 

She squeezes your hand in hers.

 

“I think for a couple who met on a bad blind date I think it’s okay to have an atypical I love you.”

 

“I guess so.”

 

“I love you too, you know. And I was planning to tell you in some elaborate, gushing way where I listed all the reasons and stuff. But you just saved me a lot of planning.”

 

“Hey, no, you don’t get off that easy. I expect the full gesture from you after this is done.”

 

She smirks, kissing your knuckles before letting your hand go.

 

“Maybe. If you’re good to me.”

 

You can feel yourself turn red as she leans in to kiss your cheek.

 

“We’re going to be good. This will be great. Let’s go meet your family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am actively trying to not orphan this work, I promise I'm working on it! I just want every chapter to be as good as I can make it. I hope you liked this one - I know it's bit jumpy. Thank you for reading as always. All the love. x


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashlyn spends the evening with Ali's family.

It’s Kyle, not your father, who throws open the door when you ring the bell as Ashlyn rifles through the backseat of the car for the bottle of wine and dessert your brought. Kyle throws his arms around you before saying anything, his smile a thousand watts. When he pulls away, he looks over your shoulder at Ashlyn, bent over in the car.

 

“Is that her?” he asks, obviously excited.

 

“That’s her,” you reply, turning towards the car. “Ash!” you call. “Are you having trouble finding it? There’s not that much stuff back there!”

 

Ashlyn stands straight up, hitting her head on the doorframe of the car. She curses, rubbing the top of her head, but pulls the two bags from the backseat, kicking the door shut. Kyle beams when he sees her, leaning down to speak in your ear.

  
“She’s really cute.”

 

“Tell me about it.”

 

When Ashlyn climbs the steps to the front door, she extends the hand she had used to rub her head to Kyle, the dessert and wine dangling from two fingers on her other hand. You try not to look at the way they’re curled.

 

“Hi, I’m Ashlyn Harris.”

 

Kyle takes her hand, shaking it before pulling Ashlyn into a hug. “I’m Kyle, I’ve heard so much about you!”

 

“All good things I hope!” Ashlyn says, laughing nervously. “I’ve heard plenty about you too.”

 

“And I’m sure half of it is terrible,” Kyle sings, heading into the house. “Dad’s in the kitchen, come in and let’s get this show on the road.”

 

You place your hand gently on Ashlyn’s waist, leaning up to whisper in her ear, kissing right beneath her earlobe.

 

“You’re going to do great. And, honestly, you look so good in that shirt and tie, I might rush us out of here just to get you out of it at home.”

 

“You don’t get to distract me with sex, Alex. This is very serious,” she sighs, clearing her throat and straightening her tie with her free hand. For a moment, you worry you’ve actually said the wrong thing, but then she looks at you and smirks.

 

\--

 

Your father is warm to Ashlyn, but you’re sure he knows what’s going on as soon as he lays eyes on her. He extends a hand to her in the kitchen, which she, of course, shakes.  
  


“Thank you for having me, Mr. Krieger.”

   
“Please, call me Ken,” he says, his smile tight. He hugs Ali. “Good to see you, Alex.”  
 

“Thanks for having us over, Dad.”

 

“I’m glad you were both free at the same time for once.” He glances at Ashlyn. “I think we have a lot of catching up to do.”

 

Ashlyn shifts uncomfortably, and Kyle grabs her by the hand, tugging her down the hall, away from the kitchen.

 

“Come with me,” he says. “I’ll show you Ali’s room from when we were kids.”

 

When they’re gone, Kyle whispering the best he can as they walk up their stairs, Ken pours you a glass of wine, opening a beer himself.  


“So.”

 

“So.”

 

“How’s soccer?”

 

“Soccer’s great,” you say, trying to gauge your father’s mood.

 

“How are you feeling? Everything working alright?” he says, pointing at your leg.

 

“Yeah. I’m hoping to get a call up for camp for Algarve next year.”

 

“Tough to end the season at the bottom of the table. But you’ll get them next year.”

 

“I’m really just hoping there is a next year, you know how it is,” you sigh, sipping your wine. “What are you making for dinner?”

 

He looks over at the stove, then back at you. “I was going to make steak but when I had Kyle go grocery shopping for me he forgot half of the ingredients. So I was just going to order pizza.”

 

“That’s totally fine, Ashlyn’s a pizza and beer girl anyway. She’s a little picky otherwise.”

 

Ken breathes out through his nose. “So, Ashlyn is…”

 

“A good friend.”

 

“You can be honest with me, you know. Your mother called me to see if I knew anything about her a few weeks ago. Must’ve seen something online.”

 

You’re not surprised – your mom calls your dad from Florida any time she thinks you or Kyle are withholding information from her. It’s never meant in a mean or prying way, but she likes to have the whole story. You sigh, taking a gulp of your wine that’s probably a little bit too big.

 

“Ashlyn is really special and important to me.”

 

“As…?” He doesn’t seem mad; he’s almost smiling as he presses a little bit more.

 

“Are you just trying to get me to say she’s my girlfriend?”

 

“Only if she is.”

 

“Well, yeah, okay. She is.”

 

There’s a beat of silence, and even though you’re nervous, it feels like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.  


“Does she make you happy?” Ken asks quietly, staring into his bottle.

 

“Happier than I’ve been in a long time,” you say, smiling.

 

Ken nods, clearing his throat. “That’s what matters then. Do you want to go get them upstairs?”

 

You’d be more worried if he was a man of many words, but he’s not, so you know this is the closest to a seal of approval you’re going to get. You place your wine glass down on a coaster on the counter, turning to jog up the stairs to your childhood room. Ashlyn is standing in the center, between your bed and your dresser, staring at the posters on your wall with Kyle. Kyle whips around when he hears your footsteps.

 

“I was just telling her how lame you were when we were growing up. Lapping me at soccer practice.”

 

“Only because I’m so much better than you.”

 

Ashlyn’s hands are buried in her pockets, staring at the PSU poster on your wall. You nod at her, trying to keep your voice down. “Do you mind if we have a second?” Kyle wrinkles his nose. “Just don’t be gross. We’re right downstairs.”

 

When you hear Kyle’s footsteps going back down the stairs, you gently shut the door, pressing your hands against Ashlyn’s chest. She smiles, placing her hands on your waist.

 

“Hi,” you say, kissing her gently. She presses back, and you let her deepen the kiss, moaning ever so softly as you run your hands down her chest.

 

“Hey.”

 

“I told my dad,” you murmur, kissing from her jaw down her neck, nipping at the base as her breath hitches in her throat.

 

“You did what?” Ashlyn breathes as you back her towards your bed. When the back of her knees hit the bed, she sits, and you straddle her, climbing onto her lap.

 

“He asked if you were my girlfriend. I said yes.”

 

Her hands, which had been sliding under your shirt, stop. She pulls away from you, eyes wide.

 

“You what?”

 

“I told him you were my girlfriend.”

 

“What’d he say? Do we need to go?” She’s frantic, her body tensing up beneath you. You tug on her tie before reaching up to rub her shoulders.

 

“We’re fine. He said all that matters is that you make me happy.”

 

“And I do make you happy?”

 

“Yes, Ashlyn,” you say, kissing her. “You make me happy.”

 

"So happy that you're coming on to me while they're waiting downstairs?"

 

You have to suppress your laugh so that they don’t hear you downstairs, kissing her again. “I think it’ll calm you down a little bit. And I don't know how long I can keep my hands off of you down there.”

 

“Do we have time?” Ashlyn says, smirking as her hands continue under your shirt.

 

“I can make it quick.”

 

Ashlyn comes against your fingers quickly, your hand clapped over her mouth. She’s hungry after, reaching for the button and zipper of your pants before you hop off of her lap.

 

“Are you more relaxed now?”

 

“What?” she says, tightening her tie and tucking her shirt back into her pants.

 

“Are you more relaxed? Do you think you can do _this_ without standing around in uncomfortable silence?”

 

She nods, breathing out through her nose and standing. She wraps her arms around your waist, murmuring in your ear. “I’m going to make that up to you later.”

 

“I expect nothing less.”  
  


“I love you, you know that?” she says, peppering kisses down your jaw.

 

\--

You’re sure Kyle knows what you’ve been up to, pointing at the sink when you enter the kitchen.

 

“Wash your hands. Dad ordered the pizza and it’ll be here soon. He’s in the living room.”

 

You wash your hands, Ashlyn hiding her smirk behind her hand and following you into the living room. When you settle on the couch, you lace your fingers through Ashlyn’s, watching your father’s eyes go to your hands, then to Ashlyn.

 

“So, Ashlyn, what do you do?”

 

“I’m a tattoo artist.”

 

“Is that how you two met? Isn’t there some kind of artist-client code you’re not supposed to breach?” His tone is less hostile than it is curious, but Ali can feel Ashlyn bristle beside her.

   
“Um, not quite.”  
  
  
"Then how did you meet?"  
  


“This is a great story,” Kyle interjects, settling onto a chair, smirking.

 

“Basically,” Ashlyn sighs. “I, um, Ali had gotten stood up on a date and I saw her from across the restaurant, and she was too beautiful not to say hi to. And, um, she decided she liked me and we just kind of kept going. And now it's been six months.”

 

“Ashlyn was really sweet and basically convinced the waiter that she was supposed to be my date all along,” you add, running your thumb over Ashlyn’s hand. “And then she asked me out for a real date the next day. And I, obviously, said yes.”

 

Ken opens his mouth to speak again, but the doorbell rings, the pizza delivery at the door.

 

You try to stay silent through the rest of the night as Ashlyn settles into your family, talking beer and DC sports with your father and tattoos and surfing with your brother while your hand rests on her thigh. You love watching her like this, getting into her comfort zone, and you love watching how at ease Kyle and Ken both seem to be around her – they laugh easily and often, even when her jokes are bad. Ashlyn fits right in.

 

Kyle pulls you aside as the night draws to a close, carrying the empty plates into the kitchen.

 

“It looks like dad likes her,” he says nonchalantly, as another round of laughter from the two of them picks up from the other room.

 

“Yeah,” you say, looking down at your hands.

 

“She told me something interesting while we were talking upstairs,” he continues, leaning on the counter.

 

“And what was that?”

 

“She told me you said you love her.”

 

“I do.”

 

“After six months?”

 

You shrug. “When you know, you know.”

 

“Is this, like, a real serious thing?”

 

“You know I wouldn’t be doing it this long if it wasn’t.”

 

“What are you going to do? Just start bringing her to things and hope no one asks questions?”

 

 “We can cross that bridge when we get there, I think. I’m sure Ashlyn has ideas.” You clear your throat, deciding to change the subject. “Do you like her?”

 

His smile is soft and teasing tone gone. “She’s really sweet. I’m excited to get to know her when she’s less scared shitless.”

 

“I think she’ll feel better after this part of it is over.”

 

“What’s she going to be like when she meets mom?” he says, eyebrows raised.

 

You throw your head back, groaning. “I don’t even want to think about that yet.”

 

Ashlyn strides into the kitchen, her confident swagger much improved from the timid stance she had when you arrived a few hours earlier. She throws her arm around your shoulders, grinning lopsidedly at you.

 

“Are you ready to go, sweetheart? I have to work tomorrow.”

 

“Sure, yeah!” you say, looking into the dining room for your father.

 

Ashlyn leaves the house before you, Kyle walking her to the car. You watch him hug her, whispering something in her ear that makes her slap his arm, laughing.

 

“You like her?” you say, softly, to your father.

 

“She’s good. I can see why you like her. Does she take good care of you?”  


You blush. “I don’t need to really be taken care of.”  


“But does she take care of you?” he says again.

 

You think of how she holds you at night, the way she travels to your games, how she always remembers how you take your coffee, how she makes you breakfast while you go running, how she peppers kisses across your knuckles when you watch TV together. How she holds you in elevators, places a reassuring hand on the small of your back before uncomfortable press conferences, how she points out the positives in your performances even when you can only see the worst.  
  


“Yeah, she takes care of me.”

 

“Good,” he says quietly. “That’s all I want. Somebody who will take good care of my daughter.”

 

“Are you going to tell mom?”

 

“I’ll probably mention it if she calls again. She’s going to ask you to bring her to Thanksgiving.”

 

“Maybe,” you say, pulling him into a hug. “We can just cross that bridge when we get there.”

 

You hug and kiss him goodbye, doing the same for Kyle as you head to the car.

 

“I’ll see you soon. Tell me when you get home, okay? Thank you for putting this together.”

 

Kyle grins. “I’m happy to do it, Alex. She’s great. I’m proud of you.”

 

The drive home is quiet, with Ashlyn falling asleep in the passenger seat. When you arrive home, you shake her thigh and she wakes up, giving you a crooked grin. She’s beautiful all the time, but the most when she’s relaxed or just waking up. Or in this case – both. Even in the harsh light of the car’s overhead light, she’s a vision.

 

“Hi,” she says, sitting up.

 

“Do you want to spend the night?” you say softly, running your thumb over her thigh.

  
She leans across the console, kissing you softly before smirking.

 

“I do have a favor to repay.”

 

Later that night, when Ashlyn collapses in bed beside you after you come around her fingers for the third time, she pulls you close, planting kisses along your shoulder blades.

 

“Today was good, right?” she murmurs.

 

“Today was very good,” you reply, pressing your back against her, making note of the way her body fits against yours like a matching puzzle piece.

 

 “We’ve ticked a lot of boxes, right?”

 

“We said I love you for the first time, you met my family, I fucked you in my childhood home. I’d say so.”

 

“Awesome.”

 

“Mhm,” you murmur against her, already feeling her breathing even out.

 

When you begin to fall asleep, Ashlyn breathing steadily in your arms, it’s hard to remember that that morning Ashlyn had been freaking out about meeting your father. It’s easy to picture the way she laughs with your family, the way she talked to Kyle about his tattoos like they were the most interesting she'd ever seen, the way she had talked about the Nationals offseason with an air of casual professionalism.   
 

And it’s easy to picture the future – there are still a million mountains to climb, including but not limited to meeting your mother, meeting all of your friends (hopefully she'll be less nervous than she was today), and coming out together, showing her off to the world, slowly but surely letting your fans and friends into your relationship. But there's also the vision of her moving into your apartment with boxes and suitcases. Sharing a bathroom, kissing each other goodbye before heading to work. Cooking dinner together at night. Seeing her in the family section of National Team games.  Maybe one day getting down on one knee and asking her to take that major step. When you catch yourself getting that far ahead, you pull yourself back to Ashlyn’s chest rising and falling beside you.

 

Right now is perfect. You can cross every other bridge when you get there, as long as Ashlyn’s crossing it with you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, at the end of the line. As y'all know I have at least one other WIP. I hope this ending was satisfying enough for you - I know it's a bit abrupt, I just didn't want to drag it out any longer and halfheartedly write something. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, I appreciate every click, comment, and kudo. Lots of love.


End file.
